


The Chasm Between Us

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: (idk either lol), (which is directly lifted from one of my own essays @uni if u see this i give myself permission!!), Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Animal Sacrifice, Blowjobs, Comeplay, Descriptions of battle, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Execution, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Introspective Sex, Kinda?, Light exhibitionism kink, M/M, Minor Character Death, Obedience, Riding, Size Kink, Wall Sex, badass warrior husbands, big-ass glossary included!, blink and you'll miss pretty much all of the following:, classical studies meta, descriptions of polytheistic religion and worship, handjobs, how obvious is my classics degree in this?, light voyeurism kink, moderate blood and gore, right gods help me here we go, ritual sacrifice in general tbh, so many tents, stretch kink, tents as a plot device, very light Dom/sub, very lightly implied/referenced past child abuse, wow this is a lot of tags im SO sorry but that's everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21934936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: After his defeat of a northern uprising, the young legatus, Damianos, is afforded a glittering triumph. Now the shining star of Rome, Damen’s celebration is cut short by his best friend, Auguste, asking him to stop another uprising: that of his traitorous uncle, Claudius. However, when Damen’s legion suffers a devastating defeat, the only person who can help him is Laurent, Auguste’s younger brother, and fierce disliker of Damen - but if they want to save Rome from an all-consuming war, they need to find a way to put their differences aside and work together.Unless they destroy each other before they get the chance.
Relationships: Auguste & Damen (Captive Prince), Damen & Nikandros (Captive Prince), Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 166
Kudos: 146
Collections: Captive Prince Reverse Bang 2019





	1. Minium

**Author's Note:**

> WOW it's finally here! this was my life for the month of november (thanks nanowrimo!) and i had way too much fun writing it. absolutely blessed af to have such an amazing artist who basically just let me run wild with this, and boy did i, so thank u SO much to [ell](http://saintshorter.tumblr.com)[iott](http://butitsthegameilike.tumblr.com) for being so chill about everything, providing such ridiculous art for me to write for, and putting up with me in general? 
> 
> \- title actually from one of my own poems (lmao)  
> \- glossary will remain at the end of the fic  
> \- link to [my announcement post](https://damiaanos.tumblr.com/post/189844453258/captive-prince-reverse-big-bang-2019-the-chasm)  
> \- link to [the art](https://butitsthegameilike.tumblr.com/post/189844441349/triumphator-damen-from-damiaanoss-fic-the-chasm)  
> \- i cbf putting this at the end but you can find me on [tumblr](http://damiaanos.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/daamiaanos)!
> 
> oh yeah! three chapters a day for the next four days. stay tuned!

Sing in us, muse, of Theomedes’ son, who brought terror  
upon the rogue and rebel king, who dispatched thousands  
of souls to Hades for judgement, who was crushed only to stand  
taller, and who defied chaos to create order. Sing, of he who loved  
greater and stronger than any other, who risked life and limb to  
protect, to serve, and to defend those he held highest, above  
himself, above Rome, and the Gods. Sing and take up arms,  
O muse, and ye who hear, of the tale of the great general  
who saved the people, who conquered the apostate  
in the East, and brought a new reign of joy and peace,  
a new age of men and Gods with his blessed fury.  
Sing, O muse, O teller of tales, of Damianos.

***

Like every day for the last few months, Damen woke early in the morning to see the sky lazily streaked with pink and orange, and the moon setting on the horizon. He hadn’t felt nerves like this in a very long time, but he wasn’t marching to battle today, so that could explain it.

Well. Not the usual kind of battle. He was used to going against the Gauls, small uprisings on the Northern border, and larger uprisings in the East, but today he was facing a much more daunting crowd – the people of Rome.

But it wasn’t even _that_. He had achieved a lot, which was how he got himself into this position. Which he had. This was his own fault. But he wanted it, he _deserved_ it.

‘I still can’t believe they granted you a triumph.’

Damen glanced up and over to Auguste, one of his closest friends, who was leaning against a table with a fig in his hand. ‘Of course, they granted me a triumph,’ Damen said, trying not to jerk his head, as the priest approached his face with the cold paint again. He was sure the minium was dripping down his neck, so much had been slathered on.

‘But you’re not…’ Auguste took a bite of his fig and gestured meaningfully with it.

‘Do _not_ start that again,’ Damen warned. ‘You might be a senator, but I can and will beat you in a fight.’

Auguste rolled his eyes as he reached behind himself for a wine goblet. ‘You know what I mean. You’re… imported.’

‘I was born here,’ Damen said drily. ‘I know I’m precious, but I’m not a gem shipped from Aegyptus.’

‘Precious,’ Auguste scoffed. ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself.’

Damen looked at himself in the mirror the priest held up and hummed, turning his head around to check for misplaced paint. ‘How could I not,’ he asked Auguste, ‘when I’ve clearly never looked better than this moment?’

Auguste choked on his wine. ‘No, I’ll agree with you there.’

‘Can I borrow that extra paint?’ Damen asked the priest, gesturing to the bowl.

‘You may not,’ the priest said, casually moving the bowl across the table and shooting a look at Auguste. ‘Senator, remember the imperator is painted in the image of Lord Jupiter. To offend one is to offend the other.’

Auguste held his hands up placatingly. ‘I mean no offence. I’ll offer expiatory sacrifice and my sincerest apologies to Lord Jupiter next time I’m in the temple.’

‘I’m sure,’ the priest said unhappily, the corners of his mouth turned down. He went behind Damen and jabbed him in the head with his finger, ignoring the affronted little noise he made. ‘The laurel is nicely affixed.’

‘Is that why you stabbed me?’ Damen asked, rubbing the spot.

The priest ignored him and looked him up and down, still frowning. ‘Are you sure you won’t wear the official robes?’

‘I’m getting this triumph for my military prowess,’ Damen said, straightening his armour as he stood from the chair he’d been in. ‘So I will wear what I achieved it in.’

‘But you’re supposed to be Jupiter,’ Auguste said, glancing longingly at the folded purple robes on Damen’s bed. ‘Surely you should complete the look.’

‘I’m sure Jupiter will forgive me,’ Damen said, slapping Auguste on the shoulder as he went past. ‘Don’t you have somewhere to be?’

Auguste hummed. ‘Probably. I need to round up my brother. Have you seen him?’

‘You’re asking the wrong person. He avoids me like a dog with fleas.’

‘It’s truly a wonder. You’re so charming.’

‘I am, truly,’ Damen agreed earnestly. ‘I have places to be. I’ll see you later.’

‘I suspect you do,’ Auguste downed the last of his wine and grabbed another fig before he disappeared from the room, leaving Damen alone with the priest.

There was a moment of silence where they just looked at each other, before the priest asked, ‘Are you sure about the robes?’

Damen blinked and followed Auguste out.

***

They were nearly done, and Damen’s cheeks hurt from smiling at the screaming crowds.

The laurel branch, not even that heavy, was certainly beginning to feel like it by now, and the eagle of his ivory sceptre seemed to be judging him for thinking as much. The slave behind him was still whispering _, you are but a man,_ and he was counting the seconds in his head until it was muttered again.

They had made their way first from the Circus Flaminius, through the porta triumphalis and past the bottom of the Capitoline Hill and towards the Circus Maximus. The roar of the waiting crowd was deafening, even before he was inside, following the earlier exhibition of gold, captives, and animals.

Once he breached the amphitheatre, the crowd got even louder, if that was possible, and didn’t go down again until after he’d made several loops and left again, now following the route of Romulus’ pomerium around the base of the Palatine Hill. There were less people here than the Circus Maximus, and Damen’s ears were thankful for the break.

As he rounded onto the Via Sacra, the temples that lined the streets glittered under the sun. The richer inhabitants of Rome were here, some cheering politely, some rowdier than Damen’s soldiers behind him. His chariot came to a stop before the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, and he heard a particularly loud whoop from the crowd nearby.

He turned to see Auguste, grinning, as a few of the other senators gave him looks of displeasure, maybe mixed with a little disgust. Two heads of golden hair that matched Auguste’s were near him, one, his father, Aleron, merely raising an eyebrow, and the second, his younger brother, Laurent. He just looked entirely disgusted.

Damen really wasn’t sure what Laurent had against him, but whatever it was had continued fuelling his hatred since the moment they’d met. That had been a long time ago. He’d asked Auguste, once, but all he’d received as an answer was a bark of laughter like he’d told a great joke, before Auguste changed topic.

Nevertheless, now wasn’t the time to ponder on it.

The crowd sent up a renewed roar of approval as the captives began to be slaughtered before the temple. Damen didn’t like this part of triumphs. He’d never been able to watch as a child, hiding behind his mother’s skirts, or his father’s himation, so he wouldn’t have to. Even now he fought to keep the smile on his face, to pretend like this wasn’t a cruel and horrific part of his triumph.

He would’ve asked to skip it. He _should’ve_ asked to skip it, but the people demanded it, and Damen didn’t want to single himself out any more than he already was, just by being who he was. So he let it happen.

As the last of it was over, Damen turned back to the temple in front of him. The priest from earlier was waiting expectantly at the entrance and looked mere moments away from coming to collect Damen to drag him inside, like he’d been waiting for hours, not seconds.

Nevertheless, Damen didn’t want to get on the bad side of that priest – more than he already was, of course – so he rolled his shoulders, plastered his winning smile back on, and stepped off the chariot, handing his sceptre and laurel to a waiting slave, before he sauntered up the stairs.

Inside the temple, the priest led prayers to Jupiter, pausing at times to allow Damen to say things, to give thanks for specifics. That was nothing new – he was used to praying. He didn’t mind, he found it cathartic most of the time.

‘Damianos,’ the priest said, drawing a knife from inside his robe, a thick silver blade with a glinting edge and delicately carved ivory handle.

Damen nodded and turned back around to face the crowd, the senators and their families, his own family and behind them, his soldiers. ‘For Jupiter!’ he yelled, voice bouncing off the marble columns and echoed back by the crowd.

He approached the first bull, pristine white and held by an attendant, and reached for the mola salsa. He sprinkled some across the bull’s hair, then took the wine offered by another attendant and poured a little on the bull’s forehead, before finally he ran the tip of the knife lightly down the bull’s spine. Damen took a breath, and reached around quickly under the bull’s neck to find the main artery close to the top of its chest. ‘Thank you for your life and sacrifice,’ Damen murmured, doing his best to stab in and sever the artery as fast as he could. Blood splashed the temple floor, his hands and armour, and ran a small river down the front steps already as the bull collapsed.

The haruspex rushed forward from somewhere in the depths of the temple and split open the bull with a practiced hand. The crowd was quiet but for gentle murmurs, as he pushed his hands through the layers of fat and muscle to find the liver. It was quickly cut and inspected, and he held it triumphantly to the public. ‘The sacrifice is accepted by Jupiter!’

The crowd roared approval again, and Damen repeated the process over with the second bull.

*******

‘To Damianos!’ Auguste hollered, his chair scraping against the tiled floor as he pushed it backwards, wine goblet in hand. ‘The greatest legatus of our age! Conqueror of Gauls, Germanics, and every sorry bastard in between!’

Damen rolled his eyes good-naturedly and raised his goblet back in acknowledgement as the room erupted into raucous cheers. ‘Yes,’ he replied, once the room quieted back down, ‘and here’s to Auguste, the senator who throws the best feasts with the best wines!’

The cheer went up again, maybe even a little bit louder, because it seemed Damen’s men really appreciated a good feast, this one more than most, probably. They were as proud of Damen getting a triumph as he was of them for fighting so well.

The feast dissolved into a party, with people scattered around the hall, some still seated at their tables to eat politely, others seated on their tables, and others yet dancing on theirs. If Auguste cared his furniture was getting trampled on by the selection of men Damen had picked to host at his house, then he wasn’t showing it.

Auguste wasn’t actually doing anything, because he wasn’t even in the room. He’d probably vanished off somewhere, a girl or two on his arm, and had left Damen to deal with the party on his own.

Almost. Laurent was in a corner, scowling and drinking wine moodily, his face growing dark whenever someone came near him.

That included Damen, obviously.

‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ Laurent said, before Damen even opened his mouth.

‘Great,’ Damen said, using the spoon to stir the wine before he filled his goblet. ‘I don’t want to talk to you either.’

Laurent frowned. ‘I –’

‘What an embarrassment,’ someone said loudly, as their companion laughed. ‘I can’t believe they actually did it.’

Damen didn’t turn, just kept his eyes on Laurent and a tight grip on his goblet.

‘They let him have a fucking _triumph_ ,’ the first voice continued.

‘Plenty of gold, I’ll give him that,’ the second added. ‘He knows how to collect spoils.’

‘Bit scarce on the captives, though.’

‘Know why that is? He’s not even Roman, he’s Greek. They don’t do it right.’

‘And they let him have a triumph,’ the first man tutted. ‘Fucking senile old men, the lot of them.’

‘My brother’s a senator, and he’s younger than you two,’ Laurent said lightly, sipping his wine and watching Damen. ‘And I think you might be the senile ones.’

‘Oh yeah, little Auguste?’ the second man laughed. ‘Why’s that?’

‘You just insulted the triumphator,’ Laurent said, eyes sparkling, ‘and didn’t realise you’re in line for wine behind him.’

Damen took that as his cue and turned around, smile tight. ‘I hope you’re having a pleasant evening celebrating my achievements.’

The men’s faces were pale, knuckles white from clenching their goblets so hard. ‘Uh, yes,’ one of them said – the owner of the first voice, a curly-haired, overweight man with wine spilled down his toga. ‘Didn’t see you there.’

‘No?’ Damen hummed. ‘I would’ve thought I stood out, being Greek and all.’

Their faces went a shade whiter still, and the other man – a stick of a man with close-cropped sandy coloured hair – spoke up. ‘We didn’t mean to insult you, Imperator.’

‘I don’t care if you insult me. I won’t be the one making final judgement on you, but those who will can hear and see _everything_.’ Damen sipped his wine and eyed them slowly. ‘Hope to see you at your own triumph next time.’

The men stuttered, scrabbling for excuses as they parted to allow Damen through to return to the feast proper.

‘Ignore them,’ Laurent said, appearing at Damen’s elbow, and sending a scowl back at the two men.

‘You think their words hurt me?’ Damen asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘And I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.’

‘I don’t, but I also don’t want to face the wrath of my brother for leaving you alone at your celebrations.’

‘You don’t need to worry,’ Damen said, as he caught sight of two women watching him from the side of the room. ‘I discharge you from your duty.’

‘Wha–’ Laurent grabbed the goblet Damen thrust at him. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m going to fuck away my sadness,’ Damen said. ‘They really hurt my feelings.’

‘Don’t…’ Laurent trailed off.

Damen gave him a curious look. ‘Don’t what?’

Laurent rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t make bad choices.’

Damen grinned. ‘No promises.’

***

‘Sir, the games are beginning.’

Auguste ignored the servant, hoping if he didn’t move and pretended to still be sleeping, that he would be left alone and hopefully get a round three from the girls in his bed. Round three? Round four?

‘Sir, you are expected at the games.’

Auguste ignored him still, and heard the soft retreat, followed soon after by another pair of feet. No doubt, the servant had gone to fetch Laurent, who wouldn’t leave him alone until he was up and away from his bed.

‘Sir, there’s a messenger here for you.’

That Auguste couldn’t ignore. ‘Sure there is,’ he mumbled, turning onto his back and cracking an eye to see the servant, accompanied by an armoured messenger, who looked like he’d been riding all night. ‘Oh, you weren’t lying.’

‘Sir, this is Caius, part of Traian’s troop,’ the servant said, as the messenger inclined his head in deference. ‘He was dispatched shortly before Claudius overthrew and took control of the legion.’

Auguste shot up at the name. ‘Why have you come here?’

‘Traian thought you may want to deal with the matter privately, try to reason with him, as his nephew, and not need to involve any larger military units.’

Auguste sighed and rubbed his eyes. ‘See Caius is fed and watered. You have a horse?’

Caius nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘See the same for his horse. Get my brother, we’ll meet you in the triclinium in five minutes.’

The servant bowed and led Caius from the room, the sound of their footsteps fading as they went down the hall.

Auguste sighed again, a little mournful this time, as he looked towards the sleeping girls in his bed. He knew it was too good to be true. He’d let them sleep a little longer at least, send in someone to deal with them later so he wouldn’t have to.

He dressed simply in a tunic and tied a belt around his waist, then scavenged for a pair of sandals to tie quickly, before he splashed some water on his face and headed to the triclinium.

Laurent was already there, sitting at the table’s head. He sipped his water a little judgementally and raised an eyebrow as Auguste came in. ‘Late night, brother?’

‘Early morning.’

‘Early? I’ve been awake since sunrise.’

‘Why would you do that to yourself?’ Auguste asked, reaching to pour himself a cup of wine, before he slid onto a chair and grabbed a chunk of bread. He turned to Caius who was sitting opposite him at Laurent’s left. ‘You have news.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Caius put down the apple in his hand and cleared his throat. ‘I was dispatched some weeks ago from Illyria in the eastern territories by Traian. He was suspicious of Claudius and had me prepare to leave in the event of a mutiny and unfortunately, I left the next day.’

‘What exactly happened? Our uncle overthrew a commander, what are we expected to do about it? Surely someone will overthrow him in turn.’

‘All due respect, sir,’ Caius smiled tightly. ‘He has the commanders under his thumb. They conspired together to instigate him as legatus and take over the legion. They murdered Traian as he addressed the men, then announced that anyone who resisted or disagreed would face punishment.’

‘Punishment?’

‘Yes, sir. A bastardised decimation. They would draw lots and face stoning, unless they submitted.’

Auguste hummed. ‘Why kill them all when you can make an example and rule through fear?’

‘Yes, sir, exactly.’

‘Did he follow through?’ Auguste asked, swirling the wine in his cup. ‘Was there decimation?’

Caius pursed his lips. ‘No, sir. The majority of the men were with him, and their allegiance swayed their friends and brothers.’

‘What about you?’ Laurent asked, speaking for the first time. ‘Which side would you have taken?’

‘Traian was my father, sir. That’s why he dispatched me. I bring nothing but the truth, and the vengeance wanted by a son.’

Laurent nodded, pleased. ‘Do you have anything else for us? Any knowledge of our uncle’s plans, or just the fact of his betrayal?’

‘I fled in the night, sir, but I heard whisperings of their return to Rome.’

‘Rome?’ Auguste asked, glancing to Laurent.

‘Yes, sir, and I don’t think he wants a friendly talk about the weather.’

‘No,’ Laurent agreed, ‘I don’t think he does.’

***

‘You’re late,’ Damen said drily, as Auguste dropped into a seat beside him in one of the private boxes, waving a hand for wine. ‘I put so much gold towards these games, and you didn’t even make the re-enactment of my victory.’

‘Apologies,’ Auguste replied, taking the cup handed to him by an attendant. ‘I’m devastated.’

‘As you should be. Were they good, at least?’

‘Who?’

‘Your guests of the night.’

Auguste laughed. ‘They were. Only managed two of three rounds last night, though.’

‘Only?’

‘How many did you get in?’

‘Five,’ Damen hummed. ‘Three with the girls.’

‘As is your way.’

‘As is my way.’

Auguste huffed a breath and waited until the current chariot race came to an end, and men were clearing a crashed chariot off the course, splinters of wood littering the track to his and Damen’s right. ‘In any case,’ he said, interrupting the comfortable quiet between them. ‘They weren’t what kept me.’

‘Oh?’

‘A messenger arrived at my villa this morning,’ Auguste said, trying to broach the subject as carefully as he could. ‘He brought news of my uncle in the east.’

Damen took a sip of his water. He knew what Claudius was like, and probably had an inkling of what the news was. ‘And?’

‘He mutinied.’

‘Of course, he did.’

‘And is now in control of an almost complete legion.’

‘Almost complete?’

‘The messenger that arrived was the son of Traian, the former legatus. He was under the impression the rest of the men had submitted to my uncle,’ Auguste sighed and glanced sideways at Damen, half-speaking into his cup. ‘He claims to have heard suggestion of the legion’s return to Rome.’

‘To Rome? With a full legion? That’s nearly five thousand men.’

‘And my uncle is, unfortunately, persuasive, manipulative, and charismatic. It won’t be five thousand when he gets here.’

Damen put his cup on a small table to his side and turned to face Auguste fully. ‘I can guess, but why are you telling me this?’

‘We’re celebrating your triumph.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Damen sighed. ‘How much time do I have to prepare my men?’

‘None, or as much as I can give you, which still might only be a few days. We don’t know whether he’s moved yet, or have any complete evidence of his treachery, except the word of one man.’

Damen nodded. ‘To be clear, Auguste –’

‘I’m asking you to resupply and move out with the intention of stopping my uncle, yes.’

‘We’ll move in one week,’ Damen leaned back into his chair. ‘One week to gather as much knowledge as we can, to resupply my entire legion and to move out again.’

‘I’m sorry to land this at your feet, truly,’ Auguste shook his head. ‘But you’re the man of the hour. A further victory would solidify your standing with the senate and the Roman people. You’ll have their support, their prayers.’

Damen reached for his cup with a sigh. ‘Pity I won’t get to see the rest of the ludi that _I_ paid for.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Auguste said cheerfully. ‘I’ll be here on time for the rest of them.’

***

‘I know,’ Damen muttered, carefully approaching the small shrine in the corner of his villa’s gardens. ‘My father always tells me I should pick who to worship and stop making false promises to half my Gods.’

He didn’t expect a response as he placed a silver goblet on the altar before the small statue of Zeus. No one ever came this far back in the gardens, but those who did usually asked him who it was supposed to be. He always said Jupiter, and each time he did, he felt a pang of guilt at the intentional misidentification and sent a mental apology towards the sky.

‘Tomorrow I offer public sacrifice to Mars and Jupiter before leaving for campaign again,’ Damen continued, setting down a small plate with a fine cut of meat, some fruit and bread. ‘But I wanted to be sure to offer first to the Gods of my family.’

Damen poured wine into the goblet and raised it, before saying quietly, ‘Father Zeus, _kalos theos_ , I offer libation and sacrifice, and pray that if ever before you have heard me, that you do so again. I ask you to bring glory to me, as I seek justice against the traitor, Claudius, who raised hand against his commander, a man who had shown him nothing but hospitality and friendship.’

Damen trickled the wine slowly to the ground before the altar, and continued. ‘I ask that you give me strength to lead, that you give my men bravery to fight against their brothers, and that you guide us to victory against Claudius in your name, so he may truly feel the force of the Gods.’

He placed the goblet back on the altar and turned his face to the sky, closing his eyes against the glare of the midmorning sun. ‘I ask that in my absence, you protect and watch over my family, over Theomedes and Egeria, my beloved parents; over Kastor, my brother who fights in the north; over Auguste, my brilliant and loyal friend; and over my household. Bring them peace and comfort in the months to pass until we meet once more. _Khaire._ ’

Damen opened his eyes again, just as a flock of birds passed over. It grounded him, and he nodded, turning from the altar and heading back to his villa for breakfast. It was the last true spread he would likely get for months, and he was going to savour it.

Tomorrow, he went to war.


	2. Mea Maxima Culpa

Damen thought of himself as a Roman. He always had, despite almost everyone telling him the contrary.

He had been born in Rome, only just, but his parents hadn’t. They had been born in Attica, in Hellas, just like their parents, and their parents before them – like Damen was meant to be. He’d never been there, and his family hadn’t returned since they’d left shortly before his birth. His parents told him they’d tried to use his impending birth as a reason to delay their travels, but they hadn’t been allowed, and had left with his mother heavily pregnant.

Damen’s father, Theomedes, had been… _recruited_ , to put it nicely, to work within the villa of a Roman senator, to tutor his young son in the ways of Greece – the language, the culture. It was part of Rome’s ongoing fascination and Hellenisation, and they’d been shipped over, like statues to adorn the senator’s halls.

That had been how Damen met Auguste.

Auguste had never particularly liked Damen’s older brother, Kastor, a son from Theomedes’ first marriage, who had left the villa as soon as he was old enough to. From the very first moment, he’d latched onto Damen, or so they were told. Auguste had wanted a baby brother – Laurent was still a few years away – and had been obsessed with Damen as a baby. Growing up, they stuck together like glue, and not much had changed since.

Auguste’s father, Aleron, had been charmed by his and Damen’s friendship, and had allowed them to be tutored together, both by Damen’s father, and by other instructors. They were pitted against each other with thick wooden swords from the moment they were old enough to follow a command, and spent much of their youth ganging up on the younger Laurent, until he picked up a sword as well and started swinging back.

Theomedes had insisted Damen learn the ways of his homeland in secret, and taught him the rituals of the gods, how to cleanse himself of miasma to not offend them when making sacrifice. He’d made sure Damen was fluent in the language, in the customs and in the different fighting styles he’d grown up learning himself.

Much of it was stripped away from him when he joined the army and started claiming territories for the Roman people, the Roman gods, in Roman armour and with the strict, Roman formations and technique.

The higher he’d risen through the ranks of the army, the more he was aware of the eyes on him. It was why he’d moved Zeus’ shrine to the corner of his villa’s garden, muttering apologies the whole way, and hoping he would understand. Damen was already looked down on for his roots, and he didn’t know what would happen if a commander of the Roman army was found worshipping foreign gods more than those of Rome.

So he hid it. His sacrifices to Zeus, to Athena and Ares, to whoever else he turned to when he needed them, his chthonic worship of Herakles, to other heroes, and he hoped they would forgive him for doing so.

He hoped they would forgive him for being so torn about everything. The two halves of his identity were constantly at war with each other, the Roman in him wanting to do what he could, and the Hellene in him desperately wanting to forgo all of it and be left in peace to worship whichever Gods he so chose.

Except he couldn’t choose, he’d never been able to. He’d been at this particular fork in the road since he was old enough to understand what it meant, and he didn’t know if he’d ever go down just one path.

He found himself pondering on it during long journeys, and seeing as he was currently on a horse and making his way to the east with his legion, he was thinking about it again, and coming to the same conclusion as usual. As it was, right now, he wouldn’t choose. It was something he was used to, even if he didn’t particularly like how it made him feel like a traitor.

‘Sir.’

Damen was pulled from his thoughts by the appearance of a scout on the horizon. He gestured for the men to halt and waited for the scout to reach them. ‘What is it?’ he asked, as the scout drew his horse to a stop in front of him.

‘Claudius is nearby,’ the scout said. ‘He and his men have set camp. They have patrols and what looks to be a full legion.’

Damen nodded. ‘How far?’

‘The valley over. Maybe an hour away, more if he moves all his men.’

‘Tell him I want to meet him. There’s a plateau to the north. Tell him I expect him tomorrow morning.’

The scout nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

As the scout turned his horse and started back the way he’d come, Damen turned to his commanders, two men of similar age to himself, Lazar and Jord. ‘We camp here. Tomorrow we leave for the plateau before dawn breaks. Tell the men to prepare.’

Jord and Lazar exchanged a glance. ‘Sir,’ Jord said quietly. ‘Damen. Should I tell the augur –’

‘No,’ Damen interrupted. ‘Clean auspices. He’s not here to give false hope.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Jord said, flicking his eyes to Lazar again and turning his horse around. ‘I’ll prepare the men.’

‘Lazar,’ Damen said, watching Jord as he started yelling orders and sending messengers back to the camp followers. ‘Find the augur before Jord. He’s not to starve the chickens. Clean omens tomorrow.’

‘You know he’s…’ Lazar trailed off. ‘The augur and Jord.’

‘I make it my business to know things,’ Damen said lightly. ‘Ask first if Jord has been since we stopped. If he looks suspicious, bring him to me. If he says yes, kill him and find his assistant. Make sure those chickens are fed.’

‘Sir, he always looks suspicious.’

‘I expect I’ll see him soon, then.’

Lazar snorted. ‘I’ll go find him.’

‘Thank you, Lazar. It’s good having at least one person listen to my orders.’

***

‘Jord hasn’t seen me,’ Aimeric said, crossing his arms and staring defiantly up at Damen. ‘I haven’t seen him in days.’

‘Why does everything you say sound like a lie?’ Lazar asked tiredly.

‘We’re not – he doesn’t… want it.’

‘Doesn’t want _you_ , you mean?’ Damen said, tilting his head a little as he watched Aimeric. ‘What happened?’

‘That’s private.’

‘Nothing is private from me, not when it concerns how you and your chickens affect this camp.’

‘Is that what this is about?’ Aimeric blinked. ‘The chickens?’

‘Yes, the chickens. Obviously this is about the chickens,’ Lazar rolled his eyes. ‘You think you’re here because we want to know the ins and outs of you and Jord?’

Aimeric blushed. ‘What about the chickens?’

Damen blinked. ‘Are you putting these pieces together at all?’

‘I… I’m lost, yes.’

Lazar groaned. ‘Jord. The chickens. Has he asked you to starve them in case any auspices are needed?’

‘He – no, he hasn’t,’ Aimeric frowned. ‘I just told you I haven’t talked to him.’

‘Why should I trust you’re telling the truth?’ Damen asked.

‘You don’t know I’m lying. Which I’m not,’ Aimeric added quickly. ‘I’m not lying.’

‘I share a tent with Jord,’ Lazar said flatly. ‘You’re lying.’

‘How do you know it’s me sneaking in?’

‘I never said anyone was sneaking in.’

Aimeric opened his mouth and shut it again quickly. ‘Yes.’

‘Yes what?’ Damen leaned forward. ‘Yes, you’re sneaking into a command tent, or yes he asked you to starve the chickens?’

‘He asked me to feed them more so they wouldn’t eat,’ Aimeric admitted. ‘He thinks you’ll go to war otherwise.’

‘He’s right,’ Damen shrugged. ‘If someone advances on Rome, it’s our duty to stop them.’

‘We’re nowhere near Rome.’

‘That’s how we would like to keep it, Aimeric,’ Lazar said, sighing loudly and apparently at the end of his tether. ‘The point is to make sure they _don’t_ reach Rome. That’s why we’re here. It’s why we need clean omens, not falsified ones.’

Aimeric looked at him, and something seemed to change in his eyes. ‘It’s Rome.’

‘Yes, it is Rome, you’re right,’ Lazar said sarcastically. ‘Which is why we need to protect it.’

‘Why?’ Aimeric asked, relaxing in the chair he’d been pushed into when he’d first arrived in Damen’s command tent. ‘Why should we? Why shouldn’t I overfeed the chickens? Why shouldn’t I send you all into war to die?’

Damen balked at his change of demeanour. He wondered idly if Jord had seen it. ‘Why would you?’

‘Maybe I don’t like any of you. Maybe I didn’t want to be an augur and I want you all to die. Maybe I’m not on your side. Maybe Claudius –’

‘I suggest you think very seriously before finishing that thought,’ Damen said lowly. ‘You realise what you’ve done to yourself, yes?’

Aimeric’s eyes widened, and it would’ve been comical if the implications hadn’t been so serious. ‘But I’m the augur.’

‘And you’ve put yourself into a very bad position.’

‘No, wait, Damen –’

‘Damianos,’ Damen corrected. ‘Or Legatus. Not Damen. Not to you.’

‘Please,’ Aimeric said desperately. ‘Don’t kill me, I didn’t mean it. I’m only young.’

‘You received the toga viralis?’

‘Yes, but –’

‘Then you’re a man and will face the full consequences of your actions,’ Damen said simply. ‘I don’t have the time or the place for people playing at traitors and threatening my men.’

Aimeric’s face reached a level of paleness Damen was intrigued by, having never seen it anywhere else before. ‘Damianos, Legatus, Imperator, please, I can tell you everything Claudius is planning.’

Damen exchanged a look with Lazar. ‘Like what?’

‘Like his plans for Rome.’

‘I think his plans are fairly obvious,’ Lazar said. ‘Anything useful?’

Aimeric bit his lip for a moment. ‘I can tell you his plans to fight on the plateau.’

‘I said anything _useful_.’

‘But you didn’t know that.’

‘I did, because I set him up to meet us there,’ Damen sighed. ‘Aimeric, I need something that will prove your worth to me.’

‘He… Claudius doesn’t tell me anything substantial.’

‘And what are you telling him in return?’

Aimeric looked down to his hands, twisting them in the folds of fabric around his knees. ‘Everything. Jord is very talkative.’

Damen shook his head slowly. ‘Unbelievable. Lazar?’

‘Yes, sir?’ Lazar said, straightening a little as he recognised Damen’s command voice.

‘Find the assistant to the augur. Inform him he’s received a promotion. If you see Jord on your way, send him here.’

‘Yes, sir.’

It wasn’t long before Jord appeared in Damen’s command tent with Lazar. Apparently he’d been with the augury apprentice when Lazar had shown up and had seemed to understand what was going on. He came quietly.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked, looking between Damen and Aimeric, who was still in the chair.

‘You know what’s going on,’ Damen nodded to Aimeric. ‘Have anything you want to say to him?’

Jord ground his teeth. ‘I think you’ve taken this out of proportion.’

‘Taken what out of proportion?’

‘What he’s been doing.’

‘Which is?’

‘Talking to Claudius,’ Jord said, voice devoid of emotion. ‘Right?’

‘You knew?’ Aimeric asked, drawing attention to himself. ‘You knew, and still told me everything?’

‘Nothing I told you was the truth,’ Jord cleared his throat as he shifted his stance a little, relaxing with his hand on the pommel of his sword. ‘I’m not stupid.’

‘You asked him to overfeed the chickens and prevent a battle with the man who would attack Rome,’ Damen said. ‘That’s a little stupid.’

‘Damen, they’re fucking chickens. Who cares?’

‘I care. Why is this a difficult concept for you to grasp?’

‘You’ll go to war whether the omens are good or not, we both know it.’

‘Then why bother messing with them?’ Damen asked, exasperated. ‘In any case, besides your chicken tampering, you’ve still been passing information to Claudius and fucking his spy.’

‘I haven’t been telling him anything true!’

‘That’s beside the point!’ Damen yelled, pushing off the table he’d been leaning against. ‘The fact is you’re willing to! Whether or not it’s true doesn’t matter! If you show someone you’re willing to give them information, it shows you can be bought, Jord.’

‘I didn’t – I did it for _you_ , Damen. For the legion, for the men – I lead him in the wrong direction!’

‘But you didn’t! We’re still here and still on the verge of war, and I never asked you to do anything like that!’

Jord gaped. ‘I…’

‘You’ve fucked it all up for yourself, Jord,’ Damen said simply. ‘I can’t trust you.’

‘Damen, you can’t –’

‘No,’ Damen sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Jord. I can’t tolerate this kind of behaviour in my men.’

‘What, trying to make things better for you?’ Jord said, clenching his hand on his sword. ‘For trying to influence the chickens?’

‘You’re not trying to influence the chickens. You’re playing at being a god.’ Damen flicked his eyes to Jord’s hand on his sword. ‘You’d try to fight me, would you?’

‘I’d try to kill you,’ he hissed. ‘I’ve never liked you.’

Damen hummed. ‘Are you working for Claudius too? The spies are in love, how romantic.’

‘I don’t love him,’ Aimeric said, sounding bored.

‘You told me you did,’ Jord replied, hurt. ‘Was that a lie?’

‘Oh please, you –’

‘Now is not the time,’ Damen interrupted. ‘In a moment, I’m going to call in my guards from outside. You will both be taken and put under observation. In the morning, you will be executed. If you try to fight, it will be a much slower and more painful death. I suggest you go quietly. Understood?’

‘You can’t have me killed,’ Jord laughed. ‘I’m one of your commanding men.’

‘And I have plenty more under you to promote,’ Damen shrugged. ‘Guards!’

***

‘The men you see,’ Damen announced loudly to the men assembled in ranks before him, ‘are accused and admitted guilty to passing information to the traitor, Claudius. They admit to tampering with the sacred chickens to give false omens. For these crimes, they are sentenced to death.’

The men were silent, well-trained as they were, and watched as Damen drew out his sword as Aimeric was brought forward on the dais.

‘The augur, Aimeric, has passed information to Claudius, and conspired to overfeed the chickens to give unfavourable auspices. Aimeric, do you have any last words?’

Aimeric spat at Damen’s feet. ‘I’d do it again.’

Damen hummed and lifted his sword. ‘May the gods have mercy on you,’ he said, before nodding to one of the guards, who shoved Aimeric’s head down. With a slow breath, Damen lifted his sword and pushed it down through Aimeric’s neck, into his spine.

‘Damen, please,’ Jord said, as he was pulled forward by a different guard. ‘Send me back to Rome, discharge me from the army and ruin my life all you want, just don’t kill me.’

Damen raised an eyebrow. ‘There’s no discussion here, Jord.’

‘There has to be, there has to be a way –’

‘Jord, let me ask you this,’ Damen stepped closer to him to speak quietly. ‘How would you go about dissuading the men from traitorous behaviour if I let you live?’

‘How would I –’

‘Because if I let a commanding officer go free after admitting he passed information to the enemy, what sort of message would that send?’ Damen asked. ‘That it’s okay to do because you won’t get punished? That I _tolerate_ it? That I’m weak for allowing you to live?’

Jord swallowed audibly and glanced to the collapsed form of Aimeric beside him. ‘It would make the men think you were merciful to a friend.’

‘You said yesterday you never liked me. I don’t think that makes us friends, Jord.’

Jord sighed and shook his head, apparently now resigned to his fate. ‘He wasn’t even that good to fuck, and now I’m dying for it.’

‘You made this bed for yourself, and now you need to lie in it,’ Damen said, facing the assembled soldiers to address them.

‘The gods will curse you for this,’ Jord muttered. ‘All of them, your Jupiter _and_ your Zeus.’

Damen took a breath and turned back to Jord, ducking a little to look him in the eyes. Jord balked at the gesture, the difference between their heights always being an unspoken sore point. ‘You know nothing of my gods,’ Damen said lowly. ‘You don’t deserve to have their names upon your lips, but when you die – and you _will_ die – you will answer to them for what you’ve done. Whether you meet Hades or Dis, if you go before the judges Minos, Aeacus and Rhadamanthys, you will be punished for your offences against the gods.’

Jord paled a little, but tried to play it off as he rolled his shoulders and went to his knees. ‘Do it fast,’ he said, baring his neck.

Damen hummed. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Did you have any last words?’

‘Just do it.’

Damen swung.

***

‘Legatus, sir,’ the new augur said, giving an aborted bow as he saw Damen and Lazar approach, along with Jord’s replacement, a commander named Orlant. ‘The chickens were fed as usual yesterday.’

‘Excellent,’ Damen said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘The cake.’

The augur drew a honeycake from somewhere in his robe and handed it to Damen. ‘You want a good omen? The blessing for battle?’

‘I’d certainly prefer it,’ Damen said, crumbling the cake and throwing it into the chickens’ cage.

The four of them leaned forward expectantly and watched the chickens with a critical eye. They pecked half-heartedly at the cake, but left it alone for the most part.

‘You fed the chickens?’ Damen asked, just one more time. ‘Are you sure you fed them correctly? Their usual food and water?’

‘Yes, of course. I stayed up all night to watch them and make sure no one else gave them something they shouldn’t have,’ the augur said, wincing as the chickens moved away from the cake completely. ‘Sir, I don’t –’

‘I know what it means,’ Damen sighed and looked up to the sky. This Roman ritual was not what his father had taught him, and wasn’t giving him the answer he needed. If they waited, Claudius might slip by and take Rome. ‘No one speak of this. The omens were favourable.’

‘Damen,’ Lazar tried.

‘I need a moment. Prepare the men to march to the plateau and bring my horse to my tent.’

‘Damen,’ Lazar said again, his voice a warning. ‘What are you –’

‘I said I need a moment!’ Damen interrupted, heading back to his tent. He could do this, he could fix this. He didn’t even know if they would help him, not if it was for Rome, but he had to try.

Once back in his tent, Damen lost his composure a little, knowing he had limited time to get this done. He grabbed a clean cup – silver and plainly decorated, but it would do – and moved the selection of fresh fruit that had been delivered last night to the centre of his main table. He took a deep breath as he poured wine into the goblet, and held it a little in front of himself at chest height.

‘ _Kaloi theoi_ ,’ he started, switching to the tongue of his motherland. ‘Father Zeus, lord of men, if ever my offerings have pleased you, I ask you hear me now, and protect myself and my men as I enter negotiations with the traitor, Claudius. Wise Athena, I ask you to guide me and present a clear path that I might do right by my men. Lord Ares, I ask if ever I’ve brought you glory, to honour me and my men with your blessing, with your strength and fury to defeat the traitor, Claudius. May these offerings please you as I ask for your help. _Khairete_.’

‘Damen,’ Lazar said from outside the tent. ‘The men are preparing and your horse is here.’

Damen set the cup on the table and tugged on his armour to make sure it was in position. ‘Coming.’

***

‘Claudius,’ Damen greeted, as he met the other man in the middle of the field. 

‘Damianos,’ Claudius said stiffly, eyeing Damen’s forces over his shoulder. ‘You don’t look like you’re here for a flying visit.’ 

‘I’m not.’ 

‘How was your triumph?’ Claudius asked, changing the topic with a blithe smile. ‘I was sorry to miss it. I’m a little busy, you see.’ 

‘Oh yes, I see. I’ve heard all about how busy you’ve been,’ Damen said lightly. ‘I’m sure you know that’s why I’m here.’ 

‘Is it? Little old me?’ 

‘You’ve slaughtered thousands of innocent people.’ 

‘So have you. Isn’t that why you got that parade?’ 

‘Soldiers and innocents are different, but I suppose you wouldn’t be able to tell that difference, would you?’ 

‘What makes you think that?’ 

‘Have you listened to a word I’ve just said?’ 

‘Can’t say I have, no,’ Claudius shrugged. ‘Something whiny, no doubt.’ 

Damen ground his teeth. ‘We know your plans, Claudius.’ 

‘And what plans are those?’ 

‘Don’t play dumb with me.’ 

‘Are you referring to how I’m marching back to Rome?’ Claudius asked innocently. ‘To see my friends and loved ones?’ 

‘We both know you don’t have any of those.’ 

‘What, friends or loved ones?’ 

‘Either.’ 

‘Ouch,’ Claudius raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been sent to stop me, I assume. The man of the hour. The golden boy. How exciting, your first real battle against trained soldiers, instead of farmers with pitchforks and shovels.’ 

‘I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you think, Claudius,’ Damen said. ‘I didn’t join the army yesterday.’

‘No, but you were only promoted to legatus because _your_ legatus died. That doesn’t mean you know what you’re doing, either.’

‘I was promoted exactly because I _do_ know what I’m doing. I take it you’re not going to come quietly?’

Claudius scoffed and rolled his eyes. ‘Have you noticed half my men are missing?’

Damen flicked his eyes over Claudius’ shoulder to the banks of men, part of whom he’d assumed were just hidden further in the valley. He didn’t want to show how affected he was by such an off-hand comment, but his horse clearly felt it and pawed at the ground, flicking up small clumps of soft earth and grass.

Claudius smiled, low and wide. ‘You should watch your flanks, Damianos. First rule of warfare is to know your enemy.’

Damen leaned forward over his horse. ‘We will destroy you,’ he hissed, and wheeled around on his horse, heading straight to where Orlant and Lazar were waiting at the front of the men. ‘Defend the flanks,’ he said. ‘Half his force is missing.’

‘Shouldn’t have ignored the chickens,’ Lazar sang quietly, as Damen went by.

‘Be quiet, Lazar! Organise the men!’ Damen called back, cantering his horse to the other side of his forces.

He couldn’t let Claudius take his legion, he couldn’t retreat, and he couldn’t leave his men to be slaughtered because he’d missed a vital sign and thought he could outwit a commander nearly double his age. Damen knew he was young, probably too young to be in command of a legion, but he was smart, and he knew how to fight and how to win battles.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

Claudius had grown his forces more than anyone had realised, even in the short time between his killing of Traian and Damen’s arrival yesterday. There was never any hope, never a point in trying to fight. The half of Claudius’ forces that had been missing were closer to two thirds of his men, and they came at Damen’s from both flanks as well as behind. He had extra cavalry, and used it as a battering ram to break Damen’s lines, turning organised ranks into a chaotic mess of limbs.

Damen was at least spared having to call a retreat, but barely.

Claudius called off his men right as Damen thought he wouldn’t be able to stand it anymore. He was covered in mud, having climbed off his horse to join the fray at some point he couldn’t quite remember. There were a few cuts he could feel, and a lot of bruises that would inevitably turn up, but the majority of the blood that stained his skin and armour wasn’t his. It was, however, Roman.

‘Sir – Damen,’ Lazar yelled, over the last groans and sobs of dying bodies. ‘Are you okay?’

Damen looked up from the battlefield and shook his head. ‘How did he get us this bad, Lazar?’

‘We just weren’t prepared.’

‘It was because –’

‘Damen, don’t put this on yourself. Don’t put this on the chickens and say it’s your fault because you ignored the omens. Are you okay? Physically?’

‘I don’t – I don’t know.’

‘What do you want us to do?’ Lazar asked. ‘Separate graves for Claudius’ men?’

Damen wanted to say no. He wanted to say _they’re all Roman, they’re all brothers,_ but that wasn’t true. Brothers didn’t slaughter each other so mercilessly. ‘Yes,’ he decided. ‘But have the men tended to first, then we can deal with the dead. Find anyone able to help sort through to find any men still living, and get them to the physicians.’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you have an estimate?’

Lazar looked in the same direction as Damen, out over the field with its red mud. ‘I’d say we have maybe a little over one thousand.’

‘One thousand,’ Damen whispered in horror. ‘How many –’

‘He lost maybe two. Half as many as us, but he also had more than us, and still has at least a legion’s worth of men after that.’

Damen let out a deep sigh as they started walking through the men and checking bodies. ‘The gods have forsaken me, Lazar.’

‘No, they haven’t,’ Lazar said, pushing a body over to check for breath. ‘They haven’t done anything. They do what is right, Damen.’

‘How is this right?’ Damen asked, gesturing with a hand out to the men scattered around them. ‘Four thousand men, Lazar, all to prove a point to _me_.’

‘I don’t think you’re that special, Damen.’

‘It’s because I won’t choose. It’s because I pray to Jupiter for Rome, and to Zeus for myself. Maybe I should just go to Aegyptus and add Serapis to my list of gods.’

‘Now you’re being dramatic.’

‘Am I?’ Damen stood and moved to another soldier. ‘Maybe I should leave Rome. This was a catastrophic failure, Lazar. Four thousand men! Gone! I just had a fucking _triumph_ , what does this say about me?’

‘That you’re human. It’s not a bad thing.’

‘People depend on me. Four thousand parents are going to be told I got their son killed. Wives, brothers, lovers – that’s four thousand lives gone, and so many more deprived.’ Damen stood and rubbed his hands, muddy and bloody as they were, over his face. ‘I’m going to my command tent. I’m going to write letters requesting assistance, find at least four men capable of delivering a message and send them to me.’

‘Of course. I’ll have everything organised,’ Lazar nodded. ‘It’s okay, Damen.’

Damen shook his head. ‘It’s not, and don’t say it is again.’

As he walked through the men, Damen couldn’t bring himself to look down. He couldn’t look at the faces of the men he’d condemned with his hubris, and he ignored the faces of those still living as he walked through them in the followers’ camp to his tent.

He pushed the heavy folds of fabric aside and shut his eyes, sinking to his knees before the chalice of wine and the plates of fruit on the table there. ‘Why,’ he whispered, facing the ceiling of his tent. ‘Why would you let this happen? Is it because I haven’t dedicated myself to you? Is it that I still publicly claim others as my gods? Is this my punishment for denying you?’

There was no reply, and Damen didn’t know why he expected one.

He’d never faced such a loss in his entire military career, not one where he was on the decimated side; but this – this was more than a decimation. It was one in five men that had lived, not one in ten that had died.

‘I don’t understand,’ Damen said, voice still a whisper as he opened his eyes. There was a new wetness on his face, and part of his brain wondered when he’d started crying. ‘This isn’t your fault, I know it’s not. This is my fault. _Mea maxima culpa._ I should never have gone ahead with it. I shouldn’t have ignored the auspices, I should have paid more attention to Claudius, I should have posted more scouts, I know. I did this.’

_I did this._

Damen stopped denying himself and let his tears fall freely.

***

‘Sir, there’s a messenger here who has a letter for you.’

Laurent looked up from the pile of papers on his desk. ‘A letter for me?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Rochert waved to the side, and a soldier stepped into the doorway. He was covered in dust and mud, and – blood?

‘Bring me your letter,’ Laurent said, putting down the last missive he’d been reading from his brother in Rome. ‘Who is your legatus, soldier?’

‘Damianos, sir,’ the soldier said, pulling a scroll of paper from a pouch on his belt. ‘He said it was urgent.’

‘Urgent?’ Laurent said doubtfully. ‘For me?’

‘For anyone.’

Laurent raised his eyebrows and broke the seal on the paper, reading Damianos’ message quickly. ‘Is this position accurate? Is he still in Illyria?’

‘Yes, sir. The legion is… not in a position to move.’

‘No,’ Laurent said flatly. ‘I imagine not.’

He read over the message again – over the desperation that radiated from Damianos’ message for reinforcements, over the slips in his writing and the spilled and smudged ink. This could well be his chance to prove himself, and to beat Damianos at his own game, no less. He resisted the urge to smile as he imagined the look on Damianos’ face when _he_ turned up to save him.

‘Rochert,’ Laurent said. ‘Bring me the Hellene commander. Tell him we need to talk.’


	3. Reinforcements

Damen’s messengers were yet to return. He’d sent them out weeks ago, and so far, none had returned.

Well, that was a lie. One had returned. His head was in his bag, thumping against the side of his horse as it careened into the camp, a long, bloody streak down its right front leg. That hadn’t been great for the camp’s morale.

It had been weeks now, and if it hadn’t, it definitely felt like it, and there was no sign of anyone else coming back. The night was falling, and Damen had decided to convene with Lazar, Orlant, and his other commanding officers in the morning to discuss their next move.

They couldn’t return to Rome so badly beaten, not when the last time Damen had been there, the whole city was celebrating his achievements. He had so few men, and if they came across Claudius again on the way back, they’d be absolutely slaughtered, and Rome would fall. That couldn’t happen.

‘Sir.’ The scout was out of breath as he skidded on mud outside Damen’s open tent. ‘There are men.’

‘Men?’ Damen shot up. ‘Romans?’

‘I don’t know, the men I saw weren’t in the armour of the legion.’

‘How many?’

‘So many,’ the scout shook his head. ‘Too many to count. It looks like at least a legion’s worth.’

‘But not in Roman armour?’

‘No, sir, none that I could see.’

Damen pushed out of his chair. ‘Find Lazar and Orlant, have them meet me at the central command tent immediately.’

The scout nodded and ran off again, probably to find someone he could ask for directions.

Damen grabbed his sword from where it was leaning against a chest, and buckled it around his waist as he headed, unarmoured, to the central command tent nearby. There was another scout reporting back to one of Damen’s other officers, Huet.

‘Did a scout find you?’ Huet asked, as Damen appeared on the edge of their conversation.

‘Yes. What do we know?’

‘They’re Hellenes, sir,’ the scout said. ‘It looks like they’re being followed by a Roman contingent. At least the better half of a legion.’

‘Good, that’s good. Are we assuming they received my message?’

‘Yes,’ Huet said. ‘They haven’t shown any aggression, so we think they’re friendly, or at least, aren’t going to attack.’

‘Not men of Claudius,’ Damen gave a sigh of relief. ‘That’s something. Are they marching to us, or setting camp?’

‘They appear to be marching to us, sir,’ the scout glanced nervously to Huet. ‘But they are led by Hellenes. We don’t know if they’re actually with us.’

Damen looked down to his bare chest, and the thin fabric of his tunic. ‘We go to meet them. I leave without delay, send the other officers after me.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Huet agreed.

As Damen headed through the camp, he was met with the nervous looks of soldiers who knew something was happening but weren’t sure what. It was an expression he was familiar with by now, having seen it so many times since their defeat. The men had been on standby, fed by nervous energy and uncertainty, and now it was like they could sense something big was about to happen. Something was changing.

As Damen reached the edge of the camp, there was barely enough light to see the advancing wall of bodies on the horizon, but their torches made it clear they were coming.

‘What is it?’ Lazar asked, falling over himself as he arrived at Damen’s side a few minutes later. He looked like he’d been disturbed from his bed – or something like it, with his hair a complete mess – and Damen decidedly ignored it.

‘Men,’ Damen said simply, nodding at the advancing lines. ‘Hopefully friendly, but there’s no point in trying to fight them if they’re not.’

Lazar hummed. ‘Are those Hellenes?’

‘Apparently.’

‘I do like Hellenes,’ Lazar said quietly, half to himself.

‘I’ve always been partial to blondes,’ Damen offered.

‘Aha, I knew you were secretly in love with Auguste.’

Damen cracked a smile, probably his first in weeks. It felt odd on his face. ‘Oh, our love is no secret.’

‘A messenger,’ Lazar said, nodding to a rider coming ahead of the group.

‘Legatus Damianos,’ the rider greeted. ‘My lords ask they meet you in your central command tent with food and drink.’

‘Of course,’ Damianos said. ‘Who are your lords?’

‘I have not been permitted to say.’

‘Naturally,’ Damen muttered. ‘I will receive them.’

‘Excellent,’ the rider said, before turning and heading back.

‘So I guess they’re Roman,’ Lazar said, as he and Damen headed back through the camp. They were doing a lot of walking, and the rain of the day had turned the rest of the ground to mud, which slid uncomfortably into their shoes.

‘What’s happening?’ Orlant asked, stopping just outside the command tent, as he saw Damen and Lazar approach.

‘A messenger said his commanders would meet us here,’ Lazar said, stopping to explain what he and Damen knew, as Damen started to nervously pace the tent instead.

He didn’t have to pace very long, before Lazar was calling his attention to a group of Hellene soldiers heading toward them.

‘We’re looking for Damianos,’ the one in front said. He was tall – built like Damen and looking like him too, except for the long hair that was swept out of his face with a band.

‘That’s me,’ Damen stepped forward. ‘You came with Romans.’

‘We did,’ the leader nodded, stepping aside.

‘They came with me.’ Laurent’s eyes glittered in the torches and fire from the braziers by the command tent. ‘We received your message.’

‘Oh, good, it’s you,’ Damen said flatly. ‘What are you doing so far from Rome?’

Laurent shrugged. ‘My duty. You let my uncle slip through your fingers.’

Damen ground his teeth. ‘Not intentionally.’

‘I see your numbers have… plummeted,’ Laurent said, looking around the camp. ‘My condolences for the loss of your men.’

‘Thank you, they were –’

‘But you should know by now what Claudius is like,’ Laurent continued, acting like he hadn’t heard Damen speak. ‘You should’ve been better prepared, better positioned. I expect that was your main fault, yes?’

‘We were not in a position to move earlier than before I met Claudius in the field,’ Damen said. ‘There were… complications.’

Laurent raised an eyebrow and glanced beside him to the other commanders. ‘Complications?’

‘Executions,’ Damen explained, ‘that could not be delayed.’

‘What was the hurry?’

‘They were passing information to Claudius.’

‘So you executed a couple of low-ranking soldiers and thus lost the majority of your forces,’ Laurent hummed. ‘Was it worth it? A good show, I hope?’

‘They were not low-ranked,’ Damen said coolly. ‘You may notice the absence of an officer and my augur.’

Laurent’s other eyebrow shot up as he scanned the line of officers behind Damen. ‘Jord? And that young augur – the one he was fucking?’

‘Aimeric,’ Damen confirmed. ‘Yes.’

‘Hmm,’ Laurent reined back his surprise, and when he spoke next, it was carefully measured. ‘I would not have expected Jord to be a traitor.’

‘No, that’s generally the nature of traitors is you don’t expect them.’

Laurent made a noncommittal noise. ‘I expected it of my uncle.’

Damen took a deep breath. He didn’t want to be talking of this, so he changed topics and tactics instead, turning the conversation back on Laurent. ‘How long did it take for your officers to convince you to come to my aid?’

Laurent laughed. ‘You think so little of me, Damianos. I may not _like_ you, but I hate my uncle. I want to take him down as much as you do. For different reasons, I expect, but reasons nonetheless.’

‘We were the ones who required convincing,’ the Hellene general added. ‘Though we may be part of Rome, we are still ourselves, and we don’t want to enter a fight we can’t win.’

‘So you think you can help us win this fight, then...?’

‘Nikandros,’ the general gave a sharp bow. ‘Yes, we believe we can. Our numbers are superior, our techniques different, and our men better trained. I don’t expect you to understand.’

‘I understand,’ Damen said, testing the Hellenic words on his tongue. ‘I may be Roman, but my heart is not, and I know your capabilities.’

Nikandros gave a startled laugh, before he answered in the same. ‘I was told you might surprise me.’

‘I don’t need to surprise you – I need to surprise Claudius.’

Nikandros opened his mouth to reply but switched back to Latin with a concentrated effort after a look from Laurent. ‘We can surprise him, and when we do, we will defeat him.’

‘We only have one chance to use the new numbers to our advantage,’ Laurent added. ‘One chance, and if we don’t make use of it, Claudius will be prepared for a second attack.’

Damen nodded. ‘You’re right. One chance, or Claudius will continue to grow his numbers. He’s probably feeling overly confident after my last loss, so we should strike soon.’

‘I agree,’ Laurent said, turning to Nikandros. ‘Sent out scouts, tell them to report on Claudius’ movement and numbers. We need to know how fast his forces are growing.’

Nikandros inclined his head and left the tent, presumably to do exactly what Laurent had ordered.

‘What do we do now?’ Laurent asked, and Damen could hear how eager he was for blood and battle.

‘Nothing,’ Damen took a knife from his belt and twirled it for a moment. ‘I’m going to get some food and go to bed. Assuming your camp has been set, I suggest you do the same. Tomorrow we start war preparations.’

‘My tent isn’t set yet,’ Laurent protested. ‘Where do you expect me to sleep?’

‘Set your own tent, I’m not going to do it for you,’ Damen said, plucking an apple from the table to one side, and carving a chunk off with his knife as he left the command tent. ‘Goodnight, Laurent.’

‘Wait, Damen –’ Laurent called, and Damen was surprised to hear his nickname. ‘I don’t know how to set a tent.’

Damen turned around and studied Laurent for a moment, how young and vulnerable he seemed mere seconds after having that bloodthirsty glint in his eyes. ‘Now seems like a good time to learn, then,’ he said, bowing deeply, sarcastically. ‘Until tomorrow.’

***

As he approached his tent, Damen clearly had some kind of look about him. The guards standing sentry at his door pulled the folds apart before he even asked, and nodded quickly when Damen asked one to fetch him food, and the other to stand at least another five paces away.

With the curtains back in place, Damen clenched his fists and slammed them onto his table with a barely contained, guttural noise.

Who the _fuck_ should get his message, except the one person he didn’t expect, the one person he didn’t think he’d see on a battlefield, the one person he didn’t _want_ to aid him and his men? Only fucking _Laurent._

Laurent, the tricky, conniving, tactical, fucking _cunning_ little bastard, Laurent?

And not only that, but he had with him what seemed to be a full legion worth of each Romans and Hellenes? Those were numbers even Damen wasn’t too proud to refuse.

He felt like he was truly being played by the gods now. All of them. They were banding together to make his life harder, to test his loyalties and make him pick a side. Would he stay true and commit to the land of his birth, or would he fall to the side of his father, of his family – the lineage that made his heart truly beat?

‘You win!’ Damen cried. ‘You _fucking_ win! I give up!’

‘That was a very fast admission of defeat,’ a newly familiar voice said outside Damen’s tent. ‘Permission to enter?’

Damen groaned. ‘Sure, why not.’

Nikandros pushed through the doors to Damen’s tent and hummed as he looked around at the arrangement of things, at the plate of fruit and cup of wine on a smaller table in one corner. ‘I brought you this,’ he said, holding out a plate of food – the hard bread of a war campaign, a small piece of roasted meat, and some other bits and pieces.

‘Thank you,’ Damen said, taking the plate and picking at the bread.

‘I must confess,’ Nikandros said, watching Damen dismantle the bread. ‘I only took it from a soldier coming to deliver it.’

‘I figured.’

‘May I?’ Nikandros gestured to a spare chair at the side of the tent.

Damen waved a hand dismissively and sat on the other, plush covered chair at his main table. ‘Did you come here just to watch me eat?’

‘No,’ Nikandros said quietly, switching languages. ‘I came to ask you something.’

Damen rolled his eyes and replied in the same. ‘What?’

‘You look the same as me, you can talk the same as me, I wondered if you might share something else with me.’

‘If we’re going to start comparing cocks, I’m not really in the mood right now.’

Nikandros blinked. ‘You surprise me again. I wasn’t going to ask, but would you like to another time?’

Damen glared at him. ‘You don’t know me well enough to joke as such.’

The side of Nikandros’ mouth lifted in a smile. ‘Not yet, but I think perhaps we are brothers.’

‘If we’re brothers, we definitely shouldn’t be comparing cocks.’

That garnered a full-bodied laugh from Nikandros. ‘That’s true.’

‘What did you want to ask me?’

‘You hide it, don’t you?’ Nikandros asked softly, glancing pointedly to the fruit and wine on the small table as he leaned forward. ‘From your men. Am I right?’

‘What do you think I’m hiding?’ Damen asked, deflecting the question. ‘I’m not hiding anything.’

‘How do you cleanse yourself this far in the battlefield?’

Damen clenched his jaw and considered avoiding that question, too. There was, however, something about Nikandros that made him want to be truthful. Maybe it was the look in Nikandros’ eye that said he knew. Maybe it was just that looking at him made Damen homesick for somewhere he’d never been. ‘There’s a stream,’ Damen said quietly. ‘A short walk beyond the camp.’

Nikandros nodded and leaned back again into his chair, something like triumph settling over him. ‘They understand. They know what you’re going through, and they don’t judge you.’

‘Who?’

‘You know who.’

Damen pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a deep breath. ‘I feel like they’re punishing me.’

‘For what?’

‘For not choosing,’ Damen groaned. ‘For sacrificing to others. For ignoring the auspices and leading my men into a battle I knew we wouldn’t win.’

‘It’s not your fault, Damianos.’

‘You don’t know that it’s not. You weren’t there. You weren’t knee-deep in the blood of your men.’

‘That may be true, but you assume I haven’t experienced that same thing.’

‘Have you?’ Damen asked, looking up accusingly. ‘How do you live with yourself?’

‘I never said I led the charge.’

‘Then you don’t know what I’m feeling. You don’t know how I’ve been abandoned.’

Nikandros inclined his head in acquiescence. ‘Maybe, but I know you haven’t been abandoned.’

‘How?’ Damen demanded. ‘How do you know what they’re thinking?’

‘I know if you were truly abandoned, you wouldn’t feel compelled to give offerings or prayer.’

‘How do you know I pray?’

Nikandros gave another small smile. ‘Because you’re opening to me, and you barely know me. You open to them, because you’ve known them your whole life, correct?’

‘What does it matter?’ Damen asked. ‘Whether I pray to them or not? They ignore me, like they always have.’

‘They haven’t, they’ve kept you on your path.’ Nikandros stood and came over, placing a hand on Damen’s shoulder. ‘The gods work through us, Damianos. Through you, through me, through Laurent, though I expect you don’t want to hear that.’

‘Not really, no,’ Damen agreed flatly.

‘You’ll be okay. Your men will be okay, just like I was. You will come back, and you’ll be stronger than before, and it’s okay to admit you’ve lost faith for a while. That, too, will come back.’

Damen looked up at Nikandros. He looked how he imagined a hero would. He wondered if it was the hair. ‘Why do you calm me so much?’

Nikandros shrugged. ‘I remind you of home.’

‘I’ve never been to Hellas.’

‘Maybe not in person,’ Nikandros agreed. ‘But that’s where your spirit – your _psyche_ – comes from.’

Damen nodded and stood to face him. This close, being able to observe Nikandros from a foot or two away, he realised he was looking at himself. If his parents hadn’t been brought to Rome, Damen would’ve grown to be Nikandros. ‘I don’t think you’ve put me at ease,’ Damen said slowly. ‘But you’ve helped somewhat. Thank you, Nikandros.’

Nikandros shrugged. ‘Call me Nik.’

‘Nik,’ Damen repeated. ‘Okay.’

‘And you?’

‘Damen.’

‘Damen,’ Nik grinned. ‘Have breakfast in my camp tomorrow. You can show me this river after, yes?’

‘Yes,’ Damen agreed. ‘I can.’

‘And then we can get to the business of war. There will be a young guard at the edge of my camp, Pallas. Find him, and he will bring you to me.’

‘Pallas,’ Damen nodded. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Good.’ Nik nodded to the plate of cooling food where Damen had left it. ‘You should eat.’

‘Is that an order?’

Nik flicked his eyes over Damen for a moment so brief, Damen half-thought he’d imagined it. ‘Would you like it to be?’

Damen cleared his throat. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Nik laughed, accepting it as dismissal. ‘Tomorrow,’ he agreed, ducking from the tent.

No sooner had Nik left than someone else barged into Damen’s tent, without so much as a cursory announcement. ‘I don’t have a tent.’

Damen let out a deep breath and turned to face Laurent. ‘That’s not my problem.’

‘I’m in your camp, it’s your problem.’

‘Then go back to your own camp.’

‘I don’t want to do that.’

‘I don’t know what you want me to tell you then,’ Damen said, exasperated already by this conversation. ‘Your camp is where your tent will be. If it’s not set, then either bully someone into doing it for you, or just do it yourself. Surely, you know how to set a tent.’

‘Why would I? I wasn’t built for war,’ Laurent said. Why did it sound like a challenge?

‘Then tell me, Laurent, because I can’t make sense of it,’ Damen stepped up to him and when he looked down, Laurent’s eyes were wide. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Here in your tent, or here on campaign?’

Damen blinked. ‘You know what? Both. Why _are_ you in my tent?’

‘I’m on campaign because I wanted to do something more than sit in a chamber surrounded by old men covered in stale sweat,’ Laurent said. ‘My father and brother agreed I should get some experience in the field, if I want to make any true decisions in the senate. I was sent to join Nikandros’ contingent with a legion of my own.’

‘That wasn’t –’

‘Well, it’s not _my_ legion. I’m here with General Makedon,’ Laurent waved a hand dismissively. ‘He has experience with the Hellenic forces, and my father wanted me to improve on my languages. Makedon accepted me and now I’m here to learn.’

‘Sure,’ Damen hummed. ‘And this is why you are in my tent?’

‘It’s how I came to be in your tent, yes.’

‘Are you actually going to tell me why you’re here? Or is there another purpose to this visit?’

Lauren shrugged, and when he flicked his eyes over Damen, much the same as Nik had done, it was slower and with more intent. A deliberate, almost dissection of Damen. ‘I’m bored.’

‘Bored?’ Damen repeated. ‘How do you expect me to change that? Is this an elaborate ploy to make me set your tent for you?’

‘No.’

‘Do you want me to give you _my_ tent?’

Laurent paused for a moment, like he hadn’t expected the offer. ‘Tempting. _Would_ you give it to me?’

‘No.’

Laurent pouted. ‘Would you give me something else?’

‘Like what?’

Laurent tilted his head, and his eyes shone with amusement. ‘I think you can guess.’

From the clear meaning written across Laurent’s face, he could. ‘Hmm,’ Damen stepped up to Laurent, closer now than before, and whispered, ‘No.’

‘Damen,’ Laurent said quietly. ‘This is an offer you will receive only once.’

‘Good.’

‘Good? I know what you’re like, you don’t give up on a chase.’

‘The only chase this will ever become would be me, running from Auguste, as he tries to cut my head off.’

‘Auguste isn’t here,’ Laurent leaned up, whispering back into Damen’s ear. ‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.’

‘He’s my best friend.’ Damen knew he was too close to Laurent, he knew this could spark something, but he was certain he didn’t like Laurent enough. He almost despised him. ‘Besides,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to fuck you.’

Laurent jerked back, and there was venom in his expression. ‘Who said I’d let you fuck me?’

Damen shrugged. ‘I have a lot of practice reading people.’

‘Maybe I’d fuck _you_.’

Damen laughed and shook his head. ‘No, you wouldn’t.’

‘Why, because you’re afraid?’ Laurent taunted. ‘Too scared to bend over and take it?’

‘No, because I can see how much you want it,’ Damen murmured. ‘You know me. You know what I like. You want it, and you want it from me.’

‘Says who?’

‘I see right through you, Laurent. Look how you’re practically pushing yourself onto me. Maybe if I wasn’t so scared of Auguste taking my cock off, I’d let you have it.’

‘As a pendant to wear around my neck?’

‘Oh,’ Damen grinned. ‘It would break your pretty little neck.’

A blush rose on Laurent’s cheeks and his lips parted a little. ‘So?’

‘I told you. The answer is no, Laurent.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

Laurent ground his teeth and stepped back, almost all the way to the door. ‘Avoid me,’ he hissed. ‘Don’t talk to me. Don’t come to my tent, don’t come to my camp.’

‘So your tent _is_ set?’ Damen asked innocently. ‘Were you just playing with me? Do you know how to set a tent?’

‘Of course I know how to set up a fucking tent, what do you think I am?’ Laurent rolled his eyes. ‘Enjoy fucking Nikandros. He looks like you’d get it back as good as you’d give it.’

‘I’m not going to fuck Nikandros,’ Damen said drily. ‘But it’s cute that you’re jealous.’

The blush on Laurent’s cheeks reddened further with fury, before he spun on his heel and pushed through the tent doors to leave.

When he was gone, Damen let out a heavy sigh and sunk onto his bed. It had been a tiring day, and tomorrow would likely be much the same, except now he had to contend with Laurent. He had Nik now, though, and for some reason, that gave Damen more comfort than he would’ve expected from this day.

Maybe he was right. Maybe the gods did work through people. If they worked through Nik, they had certainly helped to soothe his fear of failure, and for the first time in weeks, Damen had hope that maybe – just maybe – they could defeat Claudius and still come out the other side alive and swinging.

Victorious, even.


	4. Unspeakable

The sky was still dark, and the sun yet to rise when Damen made his way through the camp. It was quiet, only the early morning stirrings of a precise routine starting to take hold, as cooks woke from their tents and started to move and prepare food for the men. They nodded in greeting to Damen with the stubborn tiredness that persisted on long campaigns, and Damen nodded back.

At the edge of his own camp, guards were sitting on stumps of wood and chatting idly, probably long having since run out of conversation to fill the silence of the night watch. They, too, nodded in greeting, watching him curiously as he crossed the grass between their camp and that of Laurent and the Hellenes.

At the edge of the other camp was a couple of soldiers, their hair pushed away from their faces by headbands as well, and they, too, watched Damen curiously as he approached.

He decided the best way to do this was through their shared language, in case they didn’t understand Latin. ‘I’m here to see Nikandros. He told me to find Pallas.’

The soldiers exchanged a glance, and the younger one, with the softer features of a boy just hitting proper manhood, smiled. ‘I am Pallas.’

‘Nikandros said you would take me to him.’

‘I can,’ Pallas said. ‘I’m sure Aktis can hold the line in my absence.’

The other soldier rolled his eyes. ‘Bring me back some food.’

‘I’ll see what I can find. Come on,’ Pallas jerked his head towards the camp, waiting expectantly for Damen to follow him.

As they started walking, Damen was almost surprised at how many people were already up and awake. They stared at him and Pallas as they walked through the camp towards the centre, where it seemed Nik’s tent would be.

‘Ignore them,’ Pallas said. ‘They’re not used to having Romans in our camp yet.’

‘Not even one who looks like me?’

‘Especially not one who looks like you.’

Damen hummed. ‘Has Laurent been nice to you?’

‘Why wouldn’t he be?’ Pallas looked at him strangely. ‘Laurent has been nothing but civil to us. Well, except…’

‘Except what?’

‘He makes us speak Latin. He doesn’t understand us yet.’

‘Oh,’ Damen said. ‘How long has he been with you?’

‘A month or so. He’s picking up bits, but not enough to exactly… talk with us.’

‘And what he does is probably just war talk,’ Damen nodded. ‘Do you see him much?’

‘Not really. I see him in passing,’ Pallas shrugged, looking around a corner and humming to himself as he led Damen down there.

‘Do you know if…’ Damen trailed off. He didn’t know why he wanted to know what Laurent had been up to. Maybe it was because of how he’d acted last night. He wondered _why_ Laurent had been acting like that. ‘Has he..?’

Pallas raised an eyebrow. ‘No, not that I know of. He’s never with anyone, except Nikandros and Makedon. They’re both preoccupied with others.’

‘I didn’t think he would, but he was just…’ Damen sighed. ‘Never mind. Is this it?’

‘Yes,’ Pallas said, as they came to a stop at a larger, slightly richer tent than the others. ‘Nikandros, sir, the Legatus Damianos is here.’

There was a mutter inside the tent, before a young man, maybe Pallas’ age, scarpered out of the tent and into the dark of the morning. ‘Come in,’ Nik called.

‘Thank you, Pallas,’ Damen said. ‘I enjoyed our talk.’

‘As did I,’ Pallas smiled and turned on his heel, disappearing back the way they’d come.

Damen pushed open the folds of the tent without much preamble, and blinked against the seemingly bright light of a brazier in the corner. ‘Good morning,’ Damen greeted, squinting to see wherever Nik was. ‘I hope I’m not too early. I couldn’t sleep.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Nik’s voice wafted from the darkest corner, and a shape rose up in the shadows, pushing back blankets, where Nik appeared from under them. ‘Wasn’t doing much sleeping.’

Damen glanced around the tent awkwardly as Nik rubbed his eyes and stood from the bed. He looked towards Nik, and immediately back away again upon realising he was naked. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’ Nik asked, walking past him to grab his clothing. ‘Do I offend you?’

‘I – no, you just – I shouldn’t…’

‘Ah,’ Nik looked down for a moment before he dressed. ‘I _intimidate_ you.’

Damen blinked, offended. ‘I’ve seen bigger.’

‘Oh, it gets bigger.’

‘We – I’m not going to show you mine, if that’s what you’re trying to goad me into.’

‘I’m not trying to do anything,’ Nik shrugged. ‘But you are here, in my tent, in the darkness. No one saw you come in. Now would be the perfect time.’

‘For what? I don’t want to fuck you.’

‘Are you sure?’ Nik tilted his head. ‘The offer’s there.’

Damen looked him over for a moment – the now hidden musculature, the long hair, the… other thing. It had been a while since he’d had the hard line of another man in his bed, not since the night of his triumph in Rome. He usually never indulged while on campaign, finding it time either wasted or a distraction while he lusted after someone for too long but… ‘No,’ Damen heard himself say. ‘No, that won’t be necessary.’

Nik shrugged. ‘As I said. Shall we get breakfast?’

‘Yes,’ Damen agreed, jumping at the chance to put his mind on something other than Nikandros. ‘Breakfast.’

‘Usually it would be brought to my tent,’ Nik said, as he led the way out and towards wherever his food came from. ‘But today it’s early and we have things to do, yes?’

‘The stream,’ Damen nodded. ‘A lot has happened since that conversation.’

‘It usually does in war camps,’ Nik noted, slipping between two tents and leading Damen down a narrow path, towards the light of fires. ‘What happened?’

Damen made a noise. ‘Laurent.’

‘Ah,’ Nik smiled knowingly. ‘You two are..?’

‘ _No_ ,’ Damen gritted out. ‘His older brother is my best friend, I could never do that. He was just acting strange. He propositioned me. He’s never liked me.’

‘Maybe he wants familiarity,’ Nik suggested. ‘Something from home, maybe. He doesn’t strike me as a man who would do something without calculating every possible move.’

‘He’s not,’ Damen sighed. ‘But I’m not going to do anything, and I told him that.’

‘He’ll be fine. Probably.’

‘He’ll probably hold it against me until I die, which might not even be that long.’

‘You’re not going to die. We’re going to defeat Claudius and restore your honour,’ Nik clapped him on the shoulder as they turned out of the path and arrived directly at a tent with tables piled with food. ‘Take what you want.’

Damen grabbed a couple of honeycakes and an apple, as he followed Nik back from the food and towards the edge of the camp. It was much larger than his, which made sense, given the number of men it held. They’d finished their food by the time they got there, and nodded to Pallas and Aktis as they left and headed to the woods beside Damen’s camp.

‘I don’t do this every day,’ Damen said, even as he picked his way expertly through the dark trees towards the stream. ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me.’

‘I have nothing but good impressions of you,’ Nik said quietly behind him. ‘I think you’re scared, but that’s all.’

‘You think I’m scared?’

‘Tell me, what do Romans think of other Romans who worship foreign gods?’

‘It depends on the Romans. No one pays much attention to the lower classes, but if Laurent was praying to Zeus instead of Jupiter, he would be… looked down on, I suppose. The cults from Aegyptus are popular, the Phrygian Mithras is popular, but if I turned completely from the gods of Rome… I don’t know what would happen.’

‘So you’re scared.’

Damen stopped with a sigh, looking up through the trees to the sky as it began lightening to a watery grey. ‘Yes.’

Nik hummed, watching him. ‘You’ll get there one day.’

‘Where, to the stars?’

‘To the point where you understand and are no longer scared.’

Damen was silent for a moment, letting the sound of rustling leaves soothe his mind again. ‘It’s this way,’ he muttered, heading through the trees towards the growing sound of the stream.

Nik followed silently, walking with ease over the uneven ground, until they came to the bank of the stream, and he made a soft noise as he knelt to put his hands in the running water. ‘Do you feel it?’

Damen looked around at the trees, at the black beyond them. ‘I don’t know.’

‘This is…’ Nik stood and took a deep breath. ‘I can feel them here.’

‘I’m glad,’ Damen said, his voice a little strangled and strange. He watched Nik wash himself quickly by the stream, and all Damen could feel was jealousy. He liked Nik, truly, and he was thankful for his men, but whenever Nik talked of the gods, Damen wished he could be as sure of them as Nik was. It made him almost anxious for the battle to end so he wouldn’t have to watch Nik be so… at peace with them.

‘You don’t want to wash?’ Nik asked, his hair dripping water onto the fabric of his clothes and making bits cling to his skin.

‘No,’ Damen turned to leave the woods and heard Nik’s steps behind him.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘If you need to.’

‘How old are you?’

Damen glanced back to Nik in surprise. ‘How old am I? My age?’

‘Yes. You can’t be older than me.’

‘I’m… twenty-five.’

‘I was right. Two years.’

Damen nodded, like he knew why Nik was asking. He was hoping there would be a follow up question, but there wasn’t, and Nik spoke no more until they reached the edge of the woods.

‘I need to return to my camp,’ Nik nodded to where Pallas and Aktis were switching guard with another pair of soldiers. ‘We will see you later for war council.’

‘Later,’ Damen agreed. ‘Nik?’

Nik pausing in walking to face Damen for a moment. ‘Yes?’

There were a whole host of things Damen wanted to say, but none of it seemed right in the moment, so he just smiled instead. ‘Nothing. I appreciate your talking to me.’

Nik smiled back. ‘It’s my pleasure. I’ll see you later, Damen.’

***

‘No scouts have come back yet, have they?’ Laurent asked, directing his question to Lazar at Damen’s right. ‘No word from anyone?’

‘Uh,’ Lazar glanced at Damen. ‘No, they left yesterday. We don’t expect anyone for several days.’

‘What do we do in the meantime?’

‘We should –’ Damen started.

‘Sorry, Lazar, what was that?’ Laurent interrupted. ‘There was a loud noise in the room I can’t quite place.’

‘We should…’ Lazar looked between Damen and Laurent, and perked up after a few seconds, apparently thinking he knew something. ‘We should have our men run exercises with yours to make a cohesive group. We should join our camps as well, to continue that feeling.’

‘Excellent plan, Lazar,’ Laurent said, looking to Nik and Makedon on his side of the table. ‘Are we in agreement with this?’

‘Yes,’ Makedon said. ‘Perhaps a few mock battles would elevate the men’s spirits. Show battles, theatrics.’

‘It might also be a good way to show the techniques of my men,’ Nik added. ‘Would perhaps a joint sacrifice help? To honour all the gods?’

‘No,’ Lazar shook his head before Damen had the chance to. ‘Our men are feeling what I’m sure you know Damen is, so while there may be those who would appreciate it, right now still might not be the best time.’

Nik looked pointedly to Damen. ‘Would you say he’s right?’

Damen shrugged. ‘You have both Romans and Hellenes in your camp. If you hold sacrifice for them, then I’ll allow any of my men to go if they wish. I don’t know how many will, Lazar’s right about that.’

‘We will organise sacrifice. You should attend, at least.’

‘I…’ Damen shook his head. ‘I can’t. You know this.’

‘It was worth trying,’ Nik sighed. ‘Until we hear from scouts, there’s not much to do. We will have our camps moved closer, and have extra men stationed at borders. Tomorrow morning we will begin joint exercises, and tomorrow evening we will hold mock battles and theatrics. Perhaps the day after, we will sacrifice. Anything else?’

‘No,’ Lazar stood. ‘That’s all. Thank you.’

Nik and Makedon left to go organise their camp, but Laurent stayed behind, and glared at Lazar and Orlant until they got the message and left too, so it was just him and Damen at the table.

‘What do you want?’ Damen asked, hands braced on the edge of the table as he stared at the maps in front of him. They’d been using them to track potential paths of Claudius, where he could possibly gather more men. Of course, it was mostly useless, having no idea where he was, and there being no point in moving two groups of men when they could, in theory, move them as one new and combined unit.

‘We need to talk about what happened last night,’ Laurent said, slapping his hand in the middle of the maps and forcing Damen to look up at him.

‘We don’t. I made myself clear.’

‘I want to make _myself_ clear. No one needs to know what happened, no one needs to know what you said or what I said.’

‘Who, exactly, do you think I’m telling?’ Damen asked, pushing off from the table and making to get some wine from the jug perched on the end.

‘Nikandros,’ Laurent said. ‘I’ve seen you two, talking and laughing, and speaking in words I don’t understand.’

‘It’s not my fault you decided not to pay attention when my father taught you the language.’

‘He didn’t teach it to me at all. Auguste was the only one my parents deemed necessary to know it.’

‘Maybe if you asked nicely, someone would teach you.’

‘Like who, you?’

‘Well, you already hate me, so I don’t suppose it matters if you get mad at me.’

‘I don’t hate you,’ Laurent paused. ‘I don’t particularly like you either, but that’s beside the point.’

‘What else is beside the point,’ Damen said, ‘is that you think you’ve seen me laughing and talking with Nik –’

‘Oh, he’s _Nik_ to you now, hmm?’

‘Yes, is that a problem?’

‘Oh no, no problem at all.’

‘You also haven’t seen us laughing, seeing as most of our conversation revolves around the gods.’

‘You can’t expect me to believe that,’ Laurent scoffed. ‘I saw you take him into the woods this morning to have your wicked way with him.’

Damen raised his eyebrows. ‘You saw me take him into the woods to show him a stream he could use to clean before praying.’

‘So you haven’t fucked him.’

‘Does it matter if I have?’ Damen asked. ‘Why are you so invested in this?’

‘Because he’s –’

‘He’s what, not _Roman_? Not a woman?’

Laurent clenched his jaw. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

Damen tilted his head, curious about Laurent’s manner. ‘Is it because you think I’d rather fuck him than you? Is that what this is? You’re just jealous?’

‘I am not _jealous_ ,’ Laurent hissed. ‘You have a very inflated opinion of yourself, Damianos.’

Damen rolled his eyes. ‘Give me an honest answer. Tell me why it bothers you so much what I do with my time.’

‘I’m not bothered.’

‘Laurent.’

‘Damianos.’

‘I sometimes forget how young you truly are,’ Damen set his still empty cup back on the table. ‘I’m returning to my tent where there’s some peace and quiet and wine that doesn’t require your company.’

‘Why would I care?’

‘Apparently you have a need to know where I am and what I’m doing at all times. Goodbye, Laurent.’

Damen walked back to his tent slowly, all while he could sense Laurent at his back, like he was trying to keep his distance but not keep enough for him to lose sight of Damen. The door to his tent didn’t even have time to close before Laurent came in after him.

‘Didn’t pick up any strays on your way here, I see,’ Laurent said, helping himself to the cushioned chair.

Damen calmly poured himself a cup of wine and downed it straight away before he had to deal with Laurent again. ‘I hate to repeat myself, but it seems I must. Why, Laurent, are you in my tent?’

‘I enjoy your company.’

‘You’ve never enjoyed my company.’

‘Maybe it makes me feel like I’m home when I’m annoyed with you.’

Damen gave a startled laugh. ‘Nik was right.’

‘So you _have_ been talking to Nik about me,’ Laurent said, his eyes narrowing. ‘What did you say?’

‘That you propositioned me,’ Damen set the cup down. ‘He said you might just be missing home.’

‘What else did he say?’

Damen shrugged. ‘Nothing of interest to you, I’m sure.’

Laurent was quiet for a moment as he watched Damen move around his tent, organising and tidying things, clearly not at ease in his own space while Laurent was there. ‘Fine,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll say it.’

Damen turned from where he’d been straightening the blankets and furs on his bed. ‘Say what?’

‘I’m jealous.’

‘Pardon?’

‘I’m jealous,’ Laurent repeated, only marginally louder, but loud enough to send a wave of satisfaction through Damen. ‘Of you and Nikandros.’

‘Why?’

‘He’s… You’re interested in him.’

‘And? I’m interested in plenty of people,’ Damen said, slowly approaching Laurent in his chair. ‘Why does it matter?’

‘They – he’s not… me.’

‘He’s…’ Damen stopped and frowned. ‘Is that why you were acting so strange last night? You wanted to claim me before him or something?’

‘I don’t know, Damianos. It’s –’ Laurent cut himself off with a shake of his head. ‘No, you know what? Maybe he’s right. Maybe it is just because you remind me of home.’

‘You think of me as home?’

‘That’s not what I said.’

Damen stopped in front of Laurent, and took in the closed off nature of his pose. His legs were tight together and crossed at the heel under his chair, his arms over his chest as he looked determinedly to the walls of the tent. ‘Tell me a truth.’

Laurent kept his eyes away from Damen. ‘I’ve told you too many already.’

‘Tell me one more.’

‘I’ve had enough of this game,’ Laurent said, standing abruptly, but caught at the hip by Damen. He glared at the hand and then up at the man it was attached to. ‘You want a truth?’

‘A truth,’ Damen agreed, keeping his hand firm on Laurent’s hip. He didn’t think he’d ever been allowed to touch Laurent, except maybe while wrestling. Auguste he hugged or swung an arm around his shoulders, but Laurent was different, and had never allowed or wanted it – but he wasn’t stepping away now.

‘My truth is that I don’t like you,’ Laurent said, looking straight into Damen’s eyes. ‘I might even hate you.’

Damen rubbed his thumb into the fabric over Laurent’s skin, as he leaned down to murmur, ‘Is that why you want to fuck me?’

‘You tell me. You don’t like me either, but I know you want to fuck me, as much as you deny it.’

‘Well, you’ve got me there,’ Damen said, flicking his eyes to Laurent’s lips. It was true – Damen did want Laurent, but he’d never allowed himself to focus on it, never really acknowledged it either, because Laurent was always too busy being annoyed with him. He was beautiful, and Damen would give a lot to have him under him, _if_ he didn’t think Auguste would find out. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’

Laurent’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. ‘I hate a lot of people and don’t want to fuck them.’

‘Are you saying I’m special?’

‘I’m saying you drive me insane,’ Laurent finally batted Damen’s hand away. ‘But I’ve known you all my life, and I’ve watched you, and sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have your hands on me, but the rest of the time, I want to rub salt into the cuts on your knuckles.’

‘And what are you thinking right now?’ Damen asked.

‘I’m thinking if anyone finds out what I’m about to do, then I’ll kill them and probably you as well.’

‘And what are you about to do?’

‘Can you just shut up and not make me regret this more than I already am?’

‘What –’

‘Shut up,’ Laurent covered Damen’s mouth with his hand. ‘Touch me.’

Damen nodded and put his hands back on Laurent’s hips, watching him for any signal to stop. It didn’t come, and Laurent relaxed a little, enough to move his hand to Damen’s neck and pull him down. When their lips met, Damen was tentative, but as Laurent opened his mouth, Damen felt something change.

He removed his hands for a moment, earning a frustrated whine from Laurent as he used his arm to sweep everything off the table behind him. The whine turned to something else, something breathier, as Damen’s hands slid down Laurent’s hips again and to the back of his thighs to lift him onto the table.

Damen allowed himself a moment to look at Laurent, flushed and wanting, and wanting _him_ , and he reached out a hand to ghost his fingers over Laurent’s throat. Oh Gods, he was beautiful. Damen tilted his head up with the slightest push of a fingertip, expecting resistance but receiving none, as Laurent gave him a single moment of silence, malleable to his touch.

But he must’ve got bored of that, and spread his legs pointedly, twisting one around the back of Damen’s to pull him closer as he started kissing down the delicate length of Laurent’s neck. He gasped as Damen bit into his shoulder, and retaliated with scratching sharply under the neck of his clothing. ‘I said touch me,’ he bit out.

Damen barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes and dragged one hand around from Laurent’s back and pushed it slowly up Laurent’s thigh under his tunic. His touch became softer, gentler, when he found what he was looking for, what Laurent clearly craved, keening when Damen took hold and began to stroke him to full hardness.

‘This doesn’t mean anything,’ Laurent said into Damen’s ear, even as he moaned quietly and clenched his legs around Damen. ‘I don’t like you.’

‘I think you like me a lot right now,’ Damen replied, nosing aside the loose fabric at his neck to bite the other shoulder. ‘Auguste can never know about this.’

‘Please don’t mention that name right now,’ Laurent said, bringing one hand under Damen’s tunic and grasping him at the base. ‘Oh, the gods torture me,’ he groaned, trailing his fingers along the underside of Damen’s cock, before sliding them back down again and finding a surprisingly steady rhythm.

Damen found his way back up to Laurent’s jaw, kissing him there as he made his way slowly to his mouth, nipping Laurent’s lip as he pulled him completely to the edge of the table, bringing their bodies flush against each other. ‘Do you want me to –’

‘Not now,’ Laurent interrupted. ‘I’m too close.’

Damen nodded and kissed him again, resting his forehead against Laurent’s as he gasped a little for air. ‘Fuck, Laurent –’

‘Shut up,’ Laurent said breathily. ‘Shut up.’

‘I’m –’

‘Not yet,’ Laurent grasped Damen at the base for a moment and canted his hips into Damen’s hand. ‘When I say.’

‘Laurent –’

‘Slower,’ Laurent said, and when Damen opened his eyes, he saw Laurent’s were closed, his cheeks flushed and mouth open. ‘Okay,’ he said, nodding and resuming his ministrations to Damen. ‘I’m close.’

‘Let –’ Damen knocked Laurent’s hand off himself and grabbed them both in one hand, using quick, steady strokes to bring them closer. ‘Are you –’

‘I’m going to – _Damen_ ,’ Laurent gasped. ‘Come for me, Damen.’

Damen groaned at the sound of his name coming from Laurent like that, and spilled over his fingers, urged on by the feel of Laurent clenching his legs around his waist as he came in his hand.

Damen slowed his movements and tried to get a handle on his breathing, barely catching himself from slumping into Laurent and onto the table. He took a step back and fell onto the chair instead, wiping himself off on his tunic – it probably needed to be washed anyway.

Laurent had himself put together much faster than Damen did, but his cheeks were still red as he slid off the table and pulled his clothing back down. ‘We,’ he said lowly, approaching Damen, ‘do not speak of this.’

Damen shook his head. ‘One time thing only. No repeats, no discussion.’

‘Exactly,’ Laurent said, clearing his throat and going to the door. ‘By the way,’ he paused at the curtains. ‘I still hate you.’

Damen let out a soft chuckle, his head lolling onto the back of the chair. ‘Of course you do.’


	5. Familiarity

‘He was my friend, you know.’

Damen looked over to Laurent, as he studied the maps of where the scouts had found Claudius. His hair had fallen over one shoulder, creating a curtain of shimmering gold. ‘Who was?’

‘Jord.’

Damen stood properly, rolling his shoulders out as he headed to the small table in the corner and its jug of water. He knew Laurent didn’t like the taste of wine, and had requested water only for the command tent for this reason. ‘He was a good man who made bad choices,’ Damen said simply, pouring a cup for himself and Laurent each. ‘I wish –’

‘You did what you needed to,’ Laurent said, looking a little surprised at the cup Damen held to him, before he carefully schooled his features back into an expression of nonchalance. ‘You would’ve looked weak if you spared him.’

‘I know.’

‘What about Aimeric?’

‘He didn’t grovel, at least,’ Damen shrugged, ‘but it’s still not an easy thing to execute one of your officers.’

‘No, I expect not,’ Laurent sighed.

‘Were you… close?’

‘He was just a friend.’

Damen nodded. ‘Laurent, about the other day –’

‘No. No discussion,’ Laurent said immediately. ‘We should just pretend it never happened.’

‘I – no, I wanted to see if you were… okay.’

‘If I was okay,’ Laurent repeated, rolling his eyes. ‘Yes. Thank you for your concern.’

‘Am I interrupting something?’ Lazar asked from the door, looking between Damen and Laurent with interest.

‘What is it?’ Damen asked suspiciously.

‘General Nikandros requires Laurent’s assistance with… something.’

‘Perfect timing.’ Laurent put down his cup and left the tent without a backwards glance.

‘What were you doing?’ Lazar asked sliding up beside Damen with a waggle of his eyebrows. ‘I know something’s going on with you two.’

‘Nothing is going on with us,’ Damen said.

‘He ignored you at that meeting, and now he’s acting… almost civil towards you,’ Lazar leaned in. ‘Seriously, what’s going on? You can tell me things.’

‘No, I can’t, because you’re a gossip. Nothing is happening. He was ignoring me because…’

‘Because?’

‘I – look, I suppose he feels ignored or something. Maybe because we know each other and I’m choosing to talk to Nikandros more than him.’

Lazar hummed. ‘Did you fuck it out?’

Damen raised an eyebrow. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Yeah, you know, did you fuck out your feelings?’

‘I – we – _no_ ,’ Damen spluttered. ‘Nothing of the sort.’

Lazar grinned triumphantly. ‘Uh huh. I’ll pretend to believe you.’

‘No, you can’t even talk of what you _think_ you know,’ Damen said, ‘because Auguste _will_ take my head off if he thinks I’ve even sneezed on Laurent, let alone laid hands on him like _that_.’

There must’ve been some kind of tell on his face as he said it, because Lazar’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped. ‘Did – _Damen_ – did you..?’

‘No!’

‘Damen, he has _power_ ,’ Lazar whispered. ‘Laurent has power! They could destroy you, no matter how friendly you are!’

‘That’s why I didn’t _do_ anything!’

‘Oh, you _can’t_ pull that with me, I –’

‘Lazar, I’ll only say this once,’ Damen interrupted. ‘You are the only person who knows any of this – not that I’m admitting anything – so if this leaks out, I will know exactly who to deal with, are we clear?’

Lazar blinked. ‘Damen, you’re playing with fire.’

Damen groaned and rubbed his eyes. ‘I _played_ with fire. Once. One time.’

‘Was it at least worth it?’

Damen shook his head and sat on one of the chairs at the war table. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t… processed it.’

‘What does he think?’ Lazar asked, finishing off Laurent’s abandoned cup of water.

‘I don’t know that either. I never know what he’s thinking.’

‘So now he just hates you for a reason,’ Lazar sighed. ‘Well, good luck with that one.’

‘Thanks. And Lazar?’ Damen said, as the other man made for the exit to the tent. ‘I was serious. If anyone finds out about this, I know where you sleep.’

‘No,’ Lazar winked. ‘You know where I’m _supposed_ to sleep.’

***

Nikandros and Makedon had organised the camps to be combined some days ago, so now, as he walked through it to get to the open field where mock battles were to take place, Damen felt as if he was walking through a small city. The majority of the men had gone to watch as well, to observe techniques they’d been training in for the day put to actual use.

Damen had been requested to at least make an appearance, but he had decided to go back to the command tent as soon as he could to study the maps again, to see if maybe he’d missed something. Claudius was tricky, he knew, and wouldn’t be surprised if he had found somewhere to hide part of his forces, or stationed them somewhere to ready for an ambush. Surely he’d know Damen would be on his tail, unless he was too confident in his abilities and thought he might have completely dismantled Damen’s forces.

His men cheered and whooped as he arrived in the small valley they were using as an amphitheatre, and quieted as he sat to take his spot in the front rows with the other commanding officers. Damen did, however, take a spot right on the edge of the row, so that when he got up to leave, it wouldn’t be as noticeable as if he was right in the middle.

Nikandros got up after he deemed everyone having arrived, and began a speech in both Latin and Greek. The different groups of soldiers roared their approval at the appropriate times, and clearly, Nik was doing a good job of his speech. Damen wasn’t listening.

Damen left when the mock battles began, with specially selected groups of soldiers taking the field and showing their techniques – the Romans versus the hoplites – before they were put into position against each other, with Nik on one side yelling orders and explaining things, and Lazar on the other doing the same. There were some cavalry to be involved probably, but Damen wasn’t totally sure. He hadn’t been part of the planning for this exhibition, and had mostly been drifting in and out of paying attention while the other officers had been discussing it.

He knew Nikandros intended to wrap this up with a joint sacrifice, despite Damen’s advocating to wait, so he intended to be long gone by then. He couldn’t face it yet, still a little too raw to do anything but vent at the gods and at Nik _about_ the gods.

Damen took his leave of the makeshift amphitheatre as the two groups of soldiers began advancing. He made his way through the camp, all too quiet now, and to his tent. Fuck maps, he just wanted to enjoy the peace and maybe take a quick nap, because the last few days had been more hectic than expected. Maybe he’d write a letter to Auguste and see how things were going in the senate, if maybe he’d heard any word of Damen’s defeat or Claudius’ advance.

As it was, Damen decided to consider his options from his bed. His quiet, soft, comfortable bed. With his eyes shut. It was still light outside, just hitting early evening, and the sun was on the way down, casting a glow across everything. This was probably Damen’s favourite time of day, when the haze of gold made everything seem softer somehow. Gentler. Easier.

He let out a deep sigh as he relaxed into his bed and was glad he was only in a tunic, not the stiff breastplate he’d usually have worn. He wondered idly if he’d subconsciously left it off for this moment. He laughed a little to himself at the thought.

‘Something funny?’

Damen cracked an eye to see Laurent standing in his doorway, pulled back to reveal and backlight him in gold. It was like looking at a young god. The sun lit up his hair, and Damen briefly caught himself thinking this was Apollo he was looking at. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You left,’ Laurent said, taking Damen’s words as an invitation to enter properly, letting the tent close behind himself.

‘So you followed me?’

‘Call it being a concerned citizen.’

‘You’re never concerned about me.’

‘I’ve never said that.’ Laurent was inspecting Damen’s desk, touching things and putting them back down.

Damen pushed up onto his elbows to watch him. ‘What are you doing?’

Laurent turned around, his hair swinging over his shoulder with the movement. Damen wondered how he’d managed to keep it long, with the accepted style of Rome being a close cut. He didn’t think he could picture Laurent with shorter hair, at least not as short as that of someone like his father, Aleron. ‘What?’ Laurent asked, narrowing his eyes.

‘Nothing,’ Damen said, tilting his head a little. ‘Your hair is nice.’

Laurent’s face went through several expressions in the space of about a second, including one where a fun little crease appeared between his eyebrows. ‘Thank you,’ he said finally. ‘It’s… messy.’

Damen blinked, unable to spot a single hair that seemed out of place. ‘It looks fine to me.’

Laurent hummed and pulled one of the chairs over from the table in the middle of Damen’s room. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said quietly, arranging himself on the chair.

‘Oh?’ Damen asked. ‘About what?’

‘I…’ Laurent cleared his throat and looked down, his hair shifting over his shoulder again. ‘The thing we decided not to talk about.’

‘Do you _want_ to talk about it?’

‘Not exactly.’ Laurent took a breath and visibly prepared himself, rolling his shoulders a little and looking determinedly to the corner above Damen’s head as he spoke. ‘I was interested in your thoughts regarding a repeat.’

Damen’s eyebrows shot up. ‘A repeat?’

‘Perhaps. I haven’t entirely decided yet.’

‘I think you probably have and now you’re just stalling for time,’ Damen said drily. ‘Are you playing with me, Laurent?’

Laurent shrugged by way of answer.

‘Did you enjoy the last time?’ Damen asked. ‘You told me you hated me as you left.’

‘Obviously I was lying,’ Laurent said, rolling his eyes. ‘Are you in or not?’

‘Same terms?’

‘No discussion and no one finds out.’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes.’

Damen nodded. ‘Why do you want this from me?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ Laurent stood from the chair. ‘It’s only because…’

‘Because?’ Damen prodded.

‘I’m comfortable with you,’ Laurent said softly, heading to the door. ‘You’re familiar.’

‘Familiar.’

‘Yes.’ Laurent stopped at the door, clenching a hand into the fabric, before he turned back around and approached Damen’s bed again. ‘Do you have nothing to say to that?’

‘Am I supposed to?’

‘Usually you have a sarcastic comment to make.’

Damen shrugged as best he could, still pushed onto his elbows. ‘Not today.’

‘Why not?’ Laurent demanded. ‘You’re making me feel stupid for saying it.’

Damen sighed and pushed up to sit properly, reaching out to gently touch the back of Laurent’s hand where it was a fist at his side. ‘Because,’ he said softly, ‘I know it’s hard to be on campaign and away from everything.’

‘So?’

‘So, I miss home too.’

‘So?’ Laurent repeated, warily eyeing Damen’s hand.

‘Are you going to make me spell it out for you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Familiarity,’ Damen said, winding his fingers around Laurent’s wrist, ‘is a powerful thing.’

Laurent bit his lower lip, relaxing his hand and letting Damen take it. ‘We’re only doing this because it’s home, right? It’s just familiarity.’

‘Exactly.’

Laurent looked up from his hand to Damen, and for just a moment, he looked like a scared young man, not the composed and decisive officer he’d come to be. ‘Exactly.’

Damen let go of Laurent and scooted over on his bed. An invitation.

Laurent took it, lying down beside Damen with barely a finger width between them. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ he whispered. ‘I feel like I’m losing myself here half the time.’

‘You get used to it,’ Damen said softly, shifting to his side and looking down at Laurent. ‘You’re doing well.’

Laurent was quiet for a moment as he looked to the ceiling above them. ‘I didn’t come here for a comforting speech, you know.’

Damen huffed a laugh as Laurent’s gaze moved to him instead. ‘What did you come here for, then?’

‘We’ve established that – something familiar.’

‘Surely a comforting speech _is_ familiar with a brother like Auguste.’

Laurent reached down for one of Damen’s hands, then frowned a little like he didn’t know what to do with it now he had it. ‘These are almost familiar.’

‘Where do you want them?’ Damen asked, letting Laurent hold his hand, inspecting the scabbed-over cuts on his knuckles, the sword callouses on his palms.

Laurent turned his hand over again, before he looked back up to Damen. ‘Everywhere.’

Damen took his hand back from Laurent, placing it gently on his cheek as he leaned down to kiss him. ‘What do you want?’ he asked, after Laurent turned away for a breath.

‘I don’t care.’

Damen hummed. ‘There’s a lot I could do with that.’

‘Trust me, you’ll know if you overstep.’

Damen laughed. ‘I’m sure I will,’ he said, ghosting his fingertips down Laurent’s neck, to his arm and over his stomach. ‘Please tell me if I do, don’t just go straight to punch me.’

Laurent sighed as Damen’s hand travelled to his hip. ‘I’ll try,’ he mumbled, ‘but it’s a kneejerk reaction.’

‘I appreciate it.’ Damen moved his hand down to Laurent’s leg, running it down his calf and up over his knee, under his tunic to smooth over the soft skin of his thigh. He marvelled a little at the texture, not having appreciated it fully last time.

‘That’s nice,’ Laurent said quietly, allowing himself to be rolled onto his side, ‘but I’m getting bored.’

‘You’re very bossy,’ Damen said, before better occupying Laurent’s mouth. Their kisses were slow and sweet, while Damen’s hand continued to wander further up Laurent’s thigh and around, where he brushed his fingertips over the cleft of Laurent’s ass.

Damen moved his mouth down Laurent’s neck as he gasped, biting the junction at his throat as one of Laurent’s hands appeared on his shoulder, scrunching the fabric when he clawed at Damen’s back, the sweetness of the moment turning to urgency.

‘This needs – _off_ ,’ Laurent hissed.

Damen pulled back, sitting up onto his knees and yanking his tunic over his head to throw it into a corner. ‘Better?’ he asked, enjoying the way Laurent hungrily ran his eyes over him.

Laurent groaned. ‘Truly, I have been abandoned, or else found,’ he muttered cryptically, before he sat up to also pull off his tunic.

The side of Damen’s mouth lifted in a smile as he went back down, slipping one of his thighs between Laurent’s and busying himself with working up a mark on Laurent’s shoulder, as his hand explored the new lands of Laurent’s unclothed stomach.

‘I need –’ Laurent pushed his hips up against Damen’s with an indecipherable noise.

‘What do you need?’ Damen asked, hovering over him in concern.

‘No.’ Laurent pushed at Damen’s shoulder, forcing him onto his back in surprise, as Laurent sat up to straddle him. He gasped, rolling his hips as Damen’s cock slipped under his ass. ‘ _Yes_.’

Damen let Laurent take over, settling his hands on Laurent’s waist and fighting to keep his eyes open. It felt good to have Laurent grinding on him like that, but he was getting closer just watching Laurent move, one hand on himself and the other flat on Damen’s stomach to keep steady.

It was intoxicating to watch, his eyes fluttering closed and his hair swaying gently, as Laurent chased climax. His lips were parted, with that little crease back between his eyes as he moved.

‘Fuck,’ Damen groaned, dragging his hands down Laurent’s thighs. ‘You need to slow down.’

‘Why would I do that?’ Laurent asked, moving his hand in a way he apparently enjoyed, and tipping his head back with a breathy moan.

‘Because you’re going to make me come if you don’t.’

‘Then don’t come.’

‘Not an option,’ Damen said, forcing himself into a sitting position and trapping Laurent between his chest and an arm, as he trailed his other hand over Laurent’s spine and down. He wondered if he could get Laurent to make that noise again, the one when his fingers –

Laurent gasped, clenching his legs around Damen’s and grabbing at him with his unoccupied hand. There wasn’t much space for his other one between himself and Damen, and with hard muscle there to move against, he had no need for it. Laurent twisted his other hand into Damen’s hair, pulling gently at it as he worked up another mark just below the hollow of Laurent’s throat.

Laurent was still grinding into Damen, both of their cocks now between them. He jerked his hips against Damen as a finger slipped between his cheeks again. ‘Fuck,’ he said, resting his forehead against Damen’s and pushing closer against his chest. ‘Is this what you make all the girls feel like?’

‘And the boys,’ Damen kissed his chest and murmured into his skin, ‘Is it good?’

Laurent nodded. ‘I can’t imagine what it would be like to have you inside me.’

The mere thought of it pushed Damen over the edge with a shudder, and he tightened his grip on Laurent’s waist as he came with a groan.

Laurent laughed and pushed back against Damen’s hand. ‘I’d heard things about you, Damianos, and you’re proving them all wrong. I heard you lasted six hours with someone.’

‘It was seven, and you’re playing dirty,’ Damen said, dragging his fingers to Laurent’s hole and teasing the rim. ‘But I can play that game too.’

‘Oh?’ Laurent sighed at the feeling. ‘Tell me.’

‘Tell you what?’ Damen asked, looking up at Laurent, his cheeks flushed, and eyes wide and attentive. ‘That I’d lay you down and do it slowly, that I’d start with my fingers and you’d be crying for more before I finally pushed into you, that I’d moan as you stretched around me and opened for me, until I was finally inside you completely?’

Laurent snaked his hand back between himself and Damen to take hold of his dick, stroking himself quickly. ‘Is that it?’

Damen pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder. ‘I’d take you apart so slow and soft, until you begged me to fuck you properly.’

‘And would you?’

‘You’d come just from me being inside you.’

Laurent’s eyes shut and his brow furrowed as he stroked himself once more and came in hot streaks over Damen’s chest. His own heaved as he slumped into Damen, pulling his hand away and wrapping both arms around Damen’s back for support. ‘You better not be lying,’ he said, nudging his head against Damen’s shoulder.

Damen took the hint and lay back down, cradling Laurent against his chest and trying to ignore the sticky patch between them. ‘I never lie about sex.’

Laurent hummed. ‘So far you’ve barely made five minutes, so we’ll see about those six hours.’

‘Seven.’

Laurent chuckled and rolled off Damen’s chest. ‘Is there a cloth in here?’

‘Some towels for bathing,’ Damen pointed to the chest at the bottom of his bed, watching Laurent get up to walk over there. It was a good view.

Laurent poured some water on the cloth and wiped himself off, before he tossed it at Damen to clean as well. ‘I have one more rule to add,’ Laurent said, picking his tunic up off the floor, ‘if we’re going to keep doing this.’

‘Okay?’ Damen pushed up to his elbows, like he had when Laurent first came into his tent. ‘Is it about the bite marks? I’m trying to keep them in places that aren’t… visible.’

‘Oh,’ Laurent looked to his chest and pulled the tunic on. The spot at the base of his throat was only just above the hem at his neck, but he could probably get away with passing it off as a shadow. Or he could just wear his breastplate until it disappeared. ‘No, that’s not it.’

‘Is it – what is it?’

Laurent went to pour them each a cup of water, bringing one over to Damen on the bed. ‘I don’t want you to kiss me anymore.’

Damen frowned. ‘Did I push too far by kissing you? You didn’t say anything.’

‘No, it’s … a recent decision. I just don’t want you to kiss my lips anymore.’

Damen nodded in spite of his confusion. He didn’t understand, but he didn’t want to make Laurent uncomfortable – he might be a very tactile person, but he knew Laurent wasn’t. ‘I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have done it in the first place, and I’ll do my best not to anymore.’

‘Thank you.’ Laurent drained his water and put the cup down on the table. ‘And you don’t need to apologise.’

‘Are you going already?’ Damen asked, as Laurent approached his door. ‘I probably won’t be able to move for another five minutes.’

Laurent cracked a smile, one side of his mouth lifting in amusement. ‘I’m younger than you. I have a better recovery period.’

‘You’re making me feel old,’ Damen groaned.

‘Good, you’re well past your prime,’ Laurent said, his small smile becoming a full grin. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. War council.’

‘War council,’ Damen agreed, raising his cup in salute. When he lowered it and looked to his door, his tent was empty.

***

On the way back to his own tent, Laurent saw only a few men floating around. They were together in a clump outside one of the tents, and looked in suspicion at Laurent as he went past. He nodded in greeting, getting a series of nods back, before they all returned to their conversation. He didn’t hear what they said.

That wasn’t even his main issue; that nameless, faceless soldiers were skipping out on mock battles and sacrifice. Laurent’s main issue was Damen.

Damen, who was so considerate, almost tender and apparently so attentive to Laurent and his needs. The way his own body responded to touch, to the gentleness carried in his fingertips. This side of Damen was nothing like he’d imagined, nothing like what Auguste had suggested in his retellings of the anecdotes Damen told him.

He _scared_ Laurent with how different he was, and maybe it was just being here and so far from home, but Laurent was… afraid. He didn’t want this to become anything more than it was, but with the way Damen held him, the way he _kissed_ him, Laurent didn’t want to tempt the gods and develop feelings for him.

Or rather, _more_ feelings for him. He was beginning to think he might actually… like him.

Laurent was okay convincing himself he mildly disliked Damen, all while letting him touch his body like that anyway. He didn’t want this to become something that continued when – _if_ – they returned to Rome. If Damen kept kissing him, there was no way Laurent would let it end when they finished here. He wanted only to feel close to home, and it seemed the way to do that was through Damen. That was it, or so he kept trying to tell himself.

When he arrived back at his tent, almost on the other side of the camp, Laurent sat heavily at his desk to consider the other thing still lingering in his mind – the group of soldiers.

Of course they would have missed a few at the demonstration, because they couldn’t expect everyone to show up, not if they were familiar with it, or just wanted some peace, like Damen. There was one little thing still pecking at his brain, however, and that was the large, hulking shadow inside the tent with the other soldiers.

Laurent stretched his legs out in front of himself, idly tracing patterns on the desk next to him. That shadow was a menacing presence, and Laurent didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt ill at ease.

He wondered if it was too paranoid to have extra guard posted at his tent.


	6. Uprising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for moderate (?) blood and gore in this chapter

The next day, Laurent stayed behind after the war council. Damen’s eyes lit up expectantly at Laurent’s approach, but quickly his expression turned to one of worry.

‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ Laurent muttered. ‘I think.’

‘What – that’s not an answer, Laurent.’

‘Come get some wine with me,’ Laurent said, steering Damen to the jugs, away from the guards at the door of the command tent. ‘I think,’ he said, pouring some wine and frowning when it was just water. When had it become water? No matter. ‘I think my uncle has infiltrated the camp.’

Damen calmly took the cup Laurent handed him. ‘Do you think he’s here?’

‘No, and I could be wrong,’ Laurent admitted quietly. ‘But I do think he has men inside the camp.’

‘Do you know who?’

Laurent shook his head. ‘I didn’t see his face, but I saw some soldiers outside a tent yesterday after I left you.’

Damen nodded. ‘You wouldn’t recognise him?’

‘I would, but there are too many people in this camp – too many places he could be hiding, either here or in the followers’ camp. I’d never be able to pin him down,’ Laurent clenched his jaw and swirled the water in his cup. ‘I want you to teach me your language.’

‘We’re speaking my language.’

‘Your other language.’

Realisation dawned on Damen. ‘Oh,’ he said softly. ‘You’re seriously worried?’

‘Yes,’ Laurent put the cup down, clenching his hands to fists at his sides. ‘Claudius is dangerous, so are his ideas and his men. I don’t care if Lazar and Orlant can’t understand, because right now you’re the only person I trust in this camp.’

‘Only me?’

‘Maybe not only you. Makedon and Nikandros also, I suppose.’

‘Why them?’ Damen asked. ‘I know why me.’

‘Because Makedon hates my uncle and Nikandros has spent no time near him, having spent most of his life in Attica.’

‘He’s from Attica?’

‘Yes, don’t get too excited. Will you teach me or not?’

‘Of course,’ Damen shrugged. ‘It also gives us a reason to spend time together.’

‘What a bonus,’ Laurent said drily. ‘I’ll be by your tent later, I need to make some inquiries.’

‘Like?’

‘None of your business.’ Laurent took a breath, allowing a singular moment to calm himself and relax in Damen’s presence, before he pulled himself together again. ‘Later,’ he repeated, turning on his heel and heading off to find Makedon and Nikandros.

The camp was bustling today, most of the men either relaxing in their tents and taking the time off for one of Rome’s many religious festivals, or sitting outside and cleaning their armour and weapons. There were several women from the followers’ camp floating through as well, trying to look as inconspicuous as they could, despite the very obvious difference in garments to the men’s.

Nikandros and Makedon were in the other command tent, their communal meeting place on this side of the camp, and seemed to be arguing about something.

‘What’s going on?’ Laurent asked, interrupting what was sure to be a thrilling conversation.

Nikandros spun around, glaring at Laurent as he approached. ‘Was it you?’ he hissed. ‘Did you do it?’

‘Did I do what?’

‘Someone went through my tent with blood,’ he said, coming far closer to Laurent than was necessary. ‘Did you do it?’

‘What? No, I was with – when was this?’

‘It’s still warm.’

‘Nikandros, we were just at war council with Damianos. It couldn’t have been me if it was still warm,’ Laurent sighed. ‘Calm down, please. I wanted to talk with you both.’

‘Why didn’t you talk at the council?’

‘Because this part of the camp is not Roman, and around the war tent, there’s nothing _but_ Romans.’

‘You don’t trust your own men?’ Nikandros asked, sitting heavily at one of the chairs, now he’d determined Laurent hadn’t polluted his tent.

‘I do, I’m just…’ Laurent stayed standing, leaning over the table between himself and the two generals. ‘I think my uncle has men in the camp.’

Makedon’s eyes went dark. ‘Who are they? We’ll have them taken care of.’

‘I don’t know who they are, it’s just a feeling. I can _feel_ them, you know?’

Nikandros nodded slowly. ‘Like a warning from the gods. A foreboding.’

‘Something like that,’ Laurent agreed. ‘My uncle and his men have a very particular presence.’

‘And you felt it?’

‘Yes.’

Nikandros stood. ‘I’ll have extra patrols and guard from my men posted outside the tents of all the officers.’

‘I appreciate it.’

‘Who do you think is here?’ Makedon asked, as Nikandros left to organise what he’d said.

‘I’d rather not consider it,’ Laurent admitted. ‘He has some nasty friends.’

‘Some inconspicuous ones too – that augur Damianos executed?’

Laurent rolled his eyes. ‘Aimeric was a boy and an idiot. My uncle probably only had to glance in his direction to have him at his feet.’

Makedon hummed. ‘Have you heard anything from Rome?’

‘No, why?’

‘Just curious. You should go and start packing your things in your tent. We leave tomorrow.’

‘I know,’ Laurent looked out the door, to the groups of Hellenes and Romans walking past the tent, all looking inside with interest. Laurent felt like he had a target on his back. ‘My uncle better not have planned an ambush for us, or I’ll be very annoyed.’

***

They didn’t get ambushed as the entire camp packed up and started moving north. Not when they settled each night, rebuilding the camp to sleep, then moving on again the next day, or a couple of days later. They’d wasted enough time at the site of Damen’s first defeat in Illyria, and now they had some serious ground to make up.

Their scouts had concluded that Claudius’ army was only a week or two ahead of them in reaching Rome, despite the start he’d had on them, because of the sheer size of his forces. Damen pushed the men to move further each day, gaining as much ground on them as they could, and it seemed to be working. Damen had a way of motivating the men, even as he trotted back and forth the lines on his horse while they walked with all their armour and gear.

At night, Laurent would head to Damen’s tent and they would speak as little Latin as possible to get Laurent’s Hellenic up to scratch. It turned out, he actually knew more than he thought, from all the sitting in the shadows and listening in on Auguste and Damen’s lessons with Theomedes. It was now also a common occurrence for war councils to be held with just Makedon and Nikandros, with Damen translating for Laurent what he didn’t quite understand. They had made the decision to do that as a precaution. Not many of the Romans could understand, and there was less of a chance of anyone hearing things they shouldn’t that way.

They hadn’t had any more repeats either, despite the long, lingering looks Laurent could feel Damen giving him; despite how much Laurent’s skin ached to let him act on those looks. Laurent’s heart raced around Damen now, at the slightest suggestion of being alone with him. It made learning very difficult.

Laurent knew the way he was acting towards Damen was different, and maybe that it was scaring Damen how distant he was getting. Laurent was just trying to save them both the pain of this… _thing_ between them turning into something more than it should be, something that would have to be abruptly severed and cut out if they ever returned to Rome. Now Laurent didn’t think he could handle having Damen conditionally, and this was just him protecting himself – and Damen.

‘Why have you been avoiding me?’

Laurent looked up from where he’d been sharpening his sword in the light of one of his tent’s braziers. ‘What do you want, Damen?’ he asked, going back to it.

‘I just told you,’ Damen said, staying outside Laurent’s tent. It was different to Laurent usually permitting himself entrance to Damen’s. ‘We were supposed to meet after dinner.’

‘I don’t think I need lessons anymore,’ Laurent said, sliding his whetstone down the blade. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘No,’ Damen frowned. ‘It’s a good thing.’

‘Great, then you can go away.’

Damen finally pushed through the doors of Laurent’s tent and dropped to get right into his line of vision. ‘What’s going on?’ Damen asked, switching languages. ‘Tell me why you’re avoiding me.’

Laurent had to think for a moment how to respond, knowing how Damen was going to play this and use Laurent’s uncertainty with the Hellenic words to his benefit. ‘Is that a command?’ he asked lightly.

‘No. Would you like it to be?’

Laurent hummed and flicked his eyes up for a moment. ‘Well, I do have a thing for orders.’

Damen raised an eyebrow and grabbed Laurent’s hand as it moved the whetstone slowly down again. ‘Laurent.’

‘Damen.’

‘Would you talk to me? Are you worried about infiltrators?’

That was part of it. They still hadn’t found any decisive evidence that Claudius had men in the camp, and Laurent was beginning to think he was just imagining it and paranoia was getting the better of him. He also, however, couldn’t tell Damen the reason for his frostiness towards him. ‘Maybe,’ he said finally.

‘What else is it?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Laurent, could –’

‘No,’ Laurent interrupted. ‘No. It’s none of your business what I do. Thank you for teaching me this lovely language of yours, but I’d like to get back to my sword, if you’ll let me.’

‘What if I won’t?’ Damen asked, glancing down as he trailed a finger along the edge of Laurent’s blade.

Laurent whipped out the knife he newly kept strapped to his thigh, and pressed the flat of it to Damen’s throat. ‘Then I’ll make you,’ he said simply, dragging the knife around as Damen looked up. ‘Get out of my tent.’

Damen clenched his teeth and rocked back onto his heels, pushing the knife away with a finger as he stood. ‘Fun trick,’ he said coldly. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘If you must,’ Laurent said, ignoring Damen as he watched him for a moment, before he scoffed and left, shaking his head.

The second Damen was gone, Laurent dropped his whetstone and sword to the floor of his tent and rubbed at his eyes. Fucking Damen, having to go and be so fucking _concerned_ and _caring_. He was making this so difficult for everyone involved, and Laurent knew that to tell him as much would just end up with him back in Damen’s bed, pretending he didn’t know better.

***

Damen was at a loss for what he could’ve possibly done to make Laurent go back to hating him. He thought they were making progress, that maybe Laurent was warming to him. It seemed whatever he’d thought was happening was… not. Maybe Laurent had just been using him for his own purposes; the advantage of another language, and a warm, welcoming hand. Even for Laurent, Damen thought it was cold to use him like that.

He didn’t know why he was surprised though – since when had Laurent ever considered the feelings of someone other than himself? There wasn’t a single fucking time Damen could think of.

Fine. Fuck him.

Damen didn’t care what he did, and clearly he had outstayed his welcome in Laurent’s life, so why bother trying to change it?

Without even realising, Damen’s feet had led him to the tent of someone he could use right at that moment. ‘Leave,’ Damen said.

The two Hellene soldiers exchanged a glance, before one opened his mouth to protest.

‘No,’ Damen interrupted. ‘Leave.’

‘It’s fine,’ Nik said, coming to the entrance of the tent. ‘I trust him not to kill me.’

The soldiers looked outraged that Nik could joke about it, but left anyway, now the order was coming from their own general.

‘Damen,’ Nik greeted, holding the tent open for him to walk through. ‘What brings you to me?’

Damen ground his teeth as he paced the tent, hands on his hips. ‘Rough night.’

‘Oh?’

‘Just… a certain someone,’ Damen waved his hand dismissively, ‘playing games.’

Nik nodded as he leaned against his desk and watched Damen pace. ‘Did you want to talk about it?’

‘Not really, no.’

‘Then why are you here?’

Damen stopped and let out a deep breath. He hoped he wasn’t about to regret this. ‘Is your offer still open?’

‘My offer?’ Nik asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘Which one?’

‘Are you going to make me say it?’

Nik shrugged, crossing his arms. ‘I’m sure I could.’

Damen flicked his eyes over Nik, as he stood so relaxed and patient. However, Damen knew the patience also meant he would need to tell Nik exactly what he was after, because he wasn’t going to fill in the blanks for him. But that didn’t mean he had to say it. ‘I’m sure you could, too,’ Damen murmured, going across the tent to stop in front of Nik.

Nik narrowed his eyes as he looked Damen up and down. ‘Something’s coming back to me, I believe.’

‘Is it?’ Damen unbuckled his leather breastplate and sword, then dropped them both on the ground. ‘How about now?’

‘Getting clearer.’

Damen hummed and reached out, running his hands over the unfamiliar bronze of Nik’s armour, down to where there definitely weren’t any buckles, before he went around the sides to where there were. ‘Is this helping?’ he asked, pulling the leather straps through their holdings.

Nik hauled it off himself and put it on the ground as well. ‘Is this next?’ he asked, removing his own sword and dropping that too. ‘Am I going in the right direction?’

‘You’re getting there,’ Damen stepped back and grabbed the back of his tunic, pulling it over his head and letting it slip through his fingers to join his armour. ‘Are we thinking the same thing yet?’

Nik pulled his lower lip into his teeth and pushed off the table to deal with removing his chiton, so they were both just standing there, looking at each other. ‘How do you want to do this?’

Damen shrugged as he dragged his eyes over Nik’s body, before he met his eyes. ‘Show me how it’s done outside Rome.’

‘Outside Rome?’ Nik asked, stepping over his pile of abandoned items to get to Damen, crowding him back against the table on the other side of his tent. ‘In the barbarian lands?’

‘I don’t think you’re barbarians,’ Damen said, as Nik’s hands came up to rest on his bare hips.

‘Are you sure? Maybe I’d completely dominate you.’

‘Dominate me? You could try.’ Damen raised an eyebrow with a thoughtful hum, his gaze drifting down Nik’s chest to between his legs. ‘And you say that like you think I wouldn’t enjoy it.’

‘Would you?’

‘I wouldn’t mind it.’

Nik grinned. ‘But maybe first, I’d give you a gift or two and try to woo you.’

‘Woo me?’

‘It’s called courting, Damen.’

‘You’d court me?’

Nik’s hand slipped around to the small of Damen’s back, as his eyes drifted down his stomach with a soft sigh. ‘Among other things.’

‘Maybe I’d let you,’ Damen said, bringing one hand up to the side of Nik’s throat, thumbing the side of his jaw. ‘But Rome might not approve of that.’

‘We’re not in Rome,’ Nik said, ‘and you’re not Roman.’

‘I’m more Roman than you.’

‘You were born in Rome, you fight for Rome, but that doesn’t make you Roman.’

Damen tilted Nik’s head up, ignoring how stupid and pointless it was, given their same, shared height. ‘I’ve been getting fucked over by Romans since I was born, and not in a fun way,’ he gritted out, ‘so show me how you, a non-Roman, would fuck me.’

Nik grinned, and it was almost feral. ‘I can do that,’ he said, sinking to his knees and taking Damen into his mouth. He had one arm across Damen’s hips to keep him trapped and still against the table as he moved, and the order was clear – _don’t move._

Damen threaded the fingers of one hand into Nik’s hair, probably messing it up, but he didn’t seem to care. In fact, he hummed encouragingly around Damen as he slid his mouth up and down, running the flat of his tongue along the underside.

‘Tell me what you want,’ Nik said, pulling off for a moment. ‘Is this good?’

Damen nodded. ‘This is good.’

Nik grinned and went back to it, focusing his attention on the head, suckling and licking at it for a few moments, before he took Damen down almost to the base with a practiced move.

Damen let out a sharp breath, his eyes shut and fingers clenched tighter in Nik’s hair.

This felt wrong after Laurent, even if it had only happened a couple of times. He was soft and unsure where Nik was hard and confident. Laurent had approached him with the care of someone who knew what they wanted but wasn’t sure they were allowed it, but Nik was the opposite in that too. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

Damen was attracted to Nik, definitely, but he knew it wasn’t in the same way as Laurent, and that was where they differed. Whatever he did with Nik – that was where it would end. It was impersonal, almost, but Laurent… Damen wanted him in every way he could. He’d thought of him as annoying, as a nuisance in his life and infringement on his fun with Auguste when they were younger, but over the last few weeks, that had changed. He _liked_ Laurent, and he liked him as more than a friend.

But apparently Laurent didn’t feel the same way, and this was how Damen had decided to get over him – with the warm, open mouth of Nikandros. If Damen tried, he could almost fool himself into thinking…

‘Wait,’ Damen said. ‘Stop.’

Nik pulled off immediately and looked up in concern. It didn’t match the wet mess around his mouth. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I can’t have you – stand up.’

Nik looked at him curiously, wiping his face on the back of his arm. ‘Now what?’

Damen pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘Sorry. I –’

‘It’s okay,’ Nik said. ‘I know. He’s really got you, hasn’t he?’

‘He doesn’t… You’ve seen it, right? He’s cold.’

‘You know why that is, though?’

‘I’ve come on too strong,’ Damen muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Nik watched him for a moment in gentle amusement. ‘No, that’s –’

‘What the fuck is going on here?’

Damen and Nik spun towards the entrance of the tent to where Laurent, paler than usual, was standing. Damen could only imagine what it looked like – both of them naked, partly hard, and Nik’s hand still on Damen’s hip. ‘Laurent –’

‘Go fuck yourself, Damen,’ Laurent said, spinning on his heel and leaving as fast as he’d appeared.

‘Shit,’ Damen muttered. ‘I need to –’

‘Damen,’ Nik warned, moving aside so Damen could pick his things back up. ‘Let him cool down for a bit.’

‘I have to explain –’

‘Explain what?’ Nik asked, going back to his own clothes. ‘That we weren’t fucking, but you stopped us from doing so at the last moment? That if he’d come in a minute earlier, he would’ve seen me on my knees with you in my mouth?’

Damen looked around helplessly as he stood with his breastplate in hand. ‘I don’t know, Nik, but I can’t leave it like that.’

‘You need to, at least until you’re fully dressed again and don’t think you’ll run after him. The last thing we need is you two yelling at each other in the middle of the camp.’

Damen whined, looking towards the door. He desperately wanted to go after Laurent, but he also knew Nik was right. Laurent would likely need time to compose himself, or at least to get to the point where he wouldn’t yell at the top of his lungs. Damen could handle Laurent’s annoyed hissing, but being screeched over was something else entirely.

‘Damen?’

‘You’re right,’ Damen said, picking up his sword and attaching it back to himself. ‘Sorry about this, I’ll head back to my tent.’

There was an unfamiliar laugh from outside the tent, before someone pushed aside the door to enter. ‘No, you won’t.’

***

Laurent fought the burning in his eyes all the way back to his tent from Nikandros’. He must’ve looked something fierce, because everyone who saw him coming got out of his way, eyes wide as they watched him storm past. He felt like such a fool, being like that with Damen while he’d been fucking around with Nikandros as well. He’d been on his way to ask Nikandros for advice about Damen, seeing as they were so close, but he hadn’t realised exactly how close they truly were.

When Laurent got back to his tent, he paced the floor, torn between wanting to scream, wanting to cry, and wanting to destroy something. He settled for going to the table and digging his nails into the edge of the wood, just to feel something other than the rage his entire body wanted to take out on someone.

Laurent stood there for a moment, taking deep breaths and trying to gather himself before he moved on and did something else. With a forced calmness, he picked up his sword and its whetstone from where he’d abandoned it on the ground and picked them up. The stone he put back in his chest, and he was about to slip the sword back into its scabbard, when he heard a shout.

It wasn’t even close by, but it was a noise Laurent had almost been waiting for. One shout turned into another, turned into the noise of clambering and fighting, and swords ringing out as they struck together.

Laurent went quickly to the door of his tent, sword in hand, and when he looked out –

Mayhem.

Around him, people were rushing past. Women and others from the followers’ camp were running in one direction, and soldiers were running in the other, looking confused but like they might have more of an idea what was happening.

‘Hey!’ Laurent grabbed a soldier as he ran past. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Uprising, sir,’ the soldier said, before he pulled his arm from Laurent’s grip and continued on his way.

 _An uprising?_ Laurent swore. Did that mean he’d been right about his uncle’s men infiltrating their camp? Had Damen taken in all the survivors of the battle he’d lost and assumed them to be his own men? Had he inadvertently _allowed_ his own camp to be compromised?

Laurent pulled his sword from its sheath and tossed it back into his tent, following the stream of soldiers to what must be the core of the uprising. As he got closer, the shouting got louder, as did the ringing of swords and clanking of blades hitting bronze armour.

Soldiers were forcing their way past him now, either covered in their own blood after being caught unawares and unarmoured, or supporting their friends who limped and moaned from the pain of their injuries. Men were lying, dead or dying, on the ground and leaned against sagging tents or makeshift stools of tree stumps, throats slit or their clothes wet and red. Laurent even saw a couple of headless bodies, so clearly, these people had wanted to cause pure chaos and destruction, uncaring of who they killed – Hellenes and Romans alike were running past with gashes on their bodies.

The placement of the uprising didn’t help, what with the relatively confined spaces that were the paths to move through the camp. They were a little less than four men wide, so the fighting was causing a blockade, disrupting entire sections of the camp, no doubt. The men lying on the ground didn’t help, either, making it even harder than it already was to get to the thick of the fighting, but Laurent was determined to get there. He wanted to know who it was he’d seen in the shadows.

‘Laurent!’

Laurent whirled around at the gravelly voice as his stomach dropped. He knew that voice. ‘It’s you,’ he muttered to himself, because there was no point in yelling his throat raw to have a conversation with fucking _Govart_.

Govart grinned like he’d heard him anyway. ‘I’ve enjoyed your camp, little boy,’ he said, twirling his bloodstained sword carelessly around himself. ‘Has it been fun, trying to figure out who your uncle sent?’

Laurent didn’t reply, only readjusted his grip on his sword and prepared his stance as Govart came closer. Of course it would be Govart. He’d been Claudius’ right hand man like Auguste and Damen were for each other. He would’ve been spreading lies and sowing the seeds of dissent among the men for weeks, if not months, and only the gods would know how many men he’d turned. His uncle was cutting their ranks yet again before they’d even had a chance to fight. Dirty underhand tactics.

‘Do you think you can beat me?’ Govart asked, looking pointedly to Laurent’s sword. ‘I’m twice your size and better with a weapon.’

‘I very much doubt that,’ Laurent said, bringing his sword up to block a blow from Govart. ‘You didn’t have my training.’

Govart dragged his blade down Laurent’s with a metallic, grating noise. ‘I’ve been in a legion since before you were born, boy.’

‘Maybe,’ Laurent pulled his sword away and twirled under Govart’s arm, hitting him hard in the middle of his back armour as he did. ‘But fighting techniques have developed a bit in the last hundred years since you joined, so I think I’ll be fine.’

‘Is that right,’ Govart asked, almost amused as he turned around slowly. ‘You’ll be fine.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Laurent agreed with a smile, unleashing a torrent of attacks, barely parried back by Govart as he struggled to keep up with the speed of Laurent’s blows. ‘See?’

Govart growled, and something behind his eyes shifted, as he came back with a ferocity Laurent hadn’t expected from him, at least not this early in a fight. ‘Your uncle asked me to bring back your head,’ he hissed, slamming the flat of his blade into Laurent’s side. ‘But he didn’t say I couldn’t have fun, first.’

‘I wouldn’t call this fun,’ Laurent said, ducking under a swinging blow and taking the opportunity to slash at Govart’s legs.

Govart laughed, stabbing down with his sword and barely missing Laurent, as it sliced through the uncovered skin of his bicep. ‘You’re a tiny bug I’ll enjoy crushing.’

Laurent hissed as he rolled away from Govart’s sword, touching the cut on his arm. Not deep, just bloody. ‘You talk a lot for someone who thinks they have the upper hand.’

‘I do,’ Govart said, swiping at Laurent as he stood and clenching his jaw when he moved out of the way just in time. ‘Come here, boy, let’s get this over with.’

‘What happened to having fun?’ Laurent asked innocently, parrying Govart’s next blow and sliding in to grab his wrist and twist his arm out. ‘I’m having fun, aren’t you?’

Laurent should’ve seen it coming, given the nature of Govart, but the headbutt still caught him off guard and made him stumble back, dropping Govart’s arm in the process. ‘Now I am,’ he said, following Laurent, as he rubbed his wrist and brought his sword up again.

Laurent shook his head as his vision cleared. His head still hurt like a bitch, and he suspected he’d end up with a pretty bruise, but right now he had bigger things to deal with. Bigger, stupider, lumbering things. On a split decision, he played up the pain in his head, rubbing at his skin and squinting like he couldn’t see.

It worked, because apparently Govart wanted to draw this out, so he dropped his guard for a fraction of a moment, his grip on his sword getting a little lax, before Laurent rushed at him and ducked to lash at his legs again. The shins were covered, but his upper legs were only protected by the skirt of his armour, so ducking gave Laurent perfect access to cut up and under it.

Govart howled as Laurent slipped past him, whirling his sword in his rage and kicking at him like a child while blood dripped down his knee. Probably also not a debilitating cut, but one intended to scare him. ‘I’ll kill you!’ he roared.

‘You need to catch me first!’ Laurent called, hoping that he could draw Govart out to somewhere less crowded. The amount of bodies heaving in the fight and bleeding out into the dirt was making it almost impossible for Laurent to feel like he was gaining any ground. When Laurent turned around to see if he was being followed, he couldn’t decide if he was glad or not that Govart was right behind him.

‘You’re only prolonging your death!’ Govart said, limping a little as he came after Laurent. ‘Stop running and face me like a man!’

‘Okay!’ Laurent agreed, stopping abruptly as they came to a less populated crossroads in camp paths. He swung his sword at Govart, grinding it up his blade and jumping it off the pommel to shave the top of his gauntlet.

Govart narrowed his eyes and pulled his arm away. ‘Pathetic,’ he spat, and with his other hand, in another move Laurent didn’t see coming, stabbed a knife into Laurent’s shoulder, right at the edge of his armour. ‘Keep it,’ he said with a smile. ‘My gift to you.’

‘Thanks,’ Laurent ground out, looking to the knife sticking from his shoulder. The hilt had a ruby set in the end, and he recognised it as one of his uncle’s favourites, bought from a trader in the farthest reaches of Rome. ‘Are you sure he doesn’t want this back?’

‘He wants you buried with it,’ Govart grinned. ‘He wanted me to stab you in the heart with it, but I figure as long as you die with it in you, it still counts.’

‘Pity,’ Laurent said, testing the weight of the sword in his hand and grimacing. It seemed a lot heavier now. ‘I don’t intend to die.’

‘Pity,’ Govart mocked, ‘because you’re gonna.’

It happened fast. Even faster than Laurent thought it would, given the speed of everything else so far. As Govart charged, Laurent took a breath and screamed it back out as he lifted his ruined arm and cut across whatever part of Govart had managed to reach him. He had a lot more strength than he realised, it seemed, and Govart’s headless body dropped like a stone.

Laurent’s chest was heaving with exertion, and he had definitely done more damage to his arm, but around him, the camp was silent of war cries. He wondered how long he’d actually been fighting Govart, if maybe it had been longer than it seemed, but in any case, whatever uprising there had been was stopped in its tracks.

‘Sir.’ It was Rochert who found Laurent first, eyes wide at the knife still in his shoulder. ‘The rebels have been killed. Legatus Damianos sent me to find you.’

‘Tell him to fuck off,’ Laurent muttered. ‘Send a medic to my tent, preferably Paschal if you can find him.’

‘Sir?’ Rochert asked. ‘I’m not saying that to the legatus.’

‘I give you permission. Find Paschal first, I’m leaving the knife in until he gets there.’

Rochert nodded and left Laurent alone as he headed back to his tent. He dropped his sword on the ground inside and started unbuckling his armour with one hand. Fucking Govart. He’d been luckier than he knew to stab Laurent. He’d taken to wearing lighter, leather armour around the camp, instead of the heavy war armour that took – what felt like – hours to get into.

He narrowed his eyes at the knife sticking out of his shoulder, at the ruby set in the end. Claudius always had a thing for pretty objects, and knives were no exception. Laurent begrudgingly had to admit it was very beautiful, but there was no way he was going to keep it in his camp.

‘Sir, Paschal is here,’ Rochert said, as he appeared in the doorway to Laurent’s tent, then furrowed his brow and came over to help him with the armour.

‘Thank you, Rochert,’ Laurent said, as he brought over a chair for Laurent to sit in at his desk.

‘I won’t lie,’ Paschal said, laying out an assortment of items on the desk. ‘This won’t be pleasant.’

‘Nothing ever is.’ Laurent took a breath and nodded, as Paschal pulled out the knife from his shoulder, and a guttural noise from his throat. ‘Keep that knife,’ Laurent said, as Rochert looked at it in disgust. ‘Don’t clean it, don’t do anything to it. Leave it on my desk, and when I’m finished here and the carnage has been dealt with, send a messenger to me.’

Rochert raised an eyebrow, but nodded. ‘Of course, sir.’

‘Have a good fight?’ Paschal asked drily, as he cut the fabric of Laurent’s tunic to get to his shoulder properly.

‘The best,’ Laurent replied, frowning as Paschal started cleaning and quickly sewing the wound. ‘Deep?’

Paschal hummed. ‘I suspect so. It hurts?’

‘Obviously.’

‘Then obviously it went in too far.’

Laurent rolled his eyes and watched Paschal work, grimacing as he stuck the needle through and through his skin. It wasn’t a very wide cut, so the sewing didn’t take very long. Even so, blood continued to seep through the stiches.

‘Nothing I can do about that right now,’ Paschal said, as if he could read Laurent’s mind. ‘Give me your arm.’

‘It’s fine,’ Laurent said, looking to the shallow cut on his bicep.

‘It still needs to be cleaned and looked at.’ Paschal turned Laurent’s arm towards himself and dabbed at the dried blood with a wet cloth. ‘It doesn’t even need stitches.’

‘I _know_ ,’ Laurent hissed. ‘I’m not stupid.’

‘I never said you were.’ Paschal paused thoughtfully as his eyes drifted to Laurent’s face. ‘Did you headbutt him?’

‘No, he headbutted _me_ ,’ Laurent said, as he raised a hand to his forehead.

‘That’s not an improvement,’ Paschal sighed. ‘Can’t do much about that, either.’

‘You’re very helpful today.’

‘I have other places to be. If you really want me to do something for it, find me tomorrow and I’ll give you a salve.’

‘Where else could possibly be more important than tending to a wounded general?’ Laurent snarked.

‘Tending to the other, significantly more wounded general.’

Laurent felt his eyes widen without permission. ‘Who was it? Was it Damianos?’ Had he just sent Rochert to tell Damen to fuck off, when he could possibly be dying?

‘No,’ Paschal pursed his lips, ‘but he could be better.’

***

‘Sir, there’s a messenger here for you.’

Claudius looked up from his plate at the soldier standing in his doorway. ‘Yes?’

The messenger appeared around the edge of the tent and came forward, holding a neatly wrapped package with a letter tucked into it. ‘Sir,’ he said, handing it over.

Claudius raised an eyebrow as he took the parcel and unwrapped it, trying to contain his grimace at the contents. His knife, the one he’d given to Govart, with its blade caked in dry blood. He glanced up at the messenger who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, and unfolded the letter.

Unmistakeably, it was the writing of his nephew bringing a message of one simple word:

_I am coming._


	7. Achilles

Laurent waited specifically until he knew Damen was gone to visit Nikandros in his tent. He hadn’t been armed or in armour when Govart had reached them, it seemed, and his men had taken to Nikandros’ torso like an artist with paints.

His chest had been cut, not as deep as Laurent’s stab wound, but deep enough that it would scar. His back was worse, a pattern of intersecting crossed lines that gave the appearance of having been whipped.

‘Your uncle had men in the camp,’ Nikandros said, his voice quiet, as Laurent hovered nearby, not sure if they were close enough friends to sit at his bedside. ‘You were right.’

‘I wish I wasn’t,’ Laurent sighed. ‘I’m sorry for what happened.’

‘Why? It wasn’t your fault.’

‘It might be.’ Laurent took the chair at his bed anyway. ‘Why you were unarmoured.’

‘Did you help me take it off instead of Damen?’ Nikandros asked, cracking open an eye and smiling a little at Laurent’s clenched jaw. ‘You didn’t do anything.’

‘I sent Damen away from my tent right before he came to yours.’

‘I know.’

‘Do you?’

‘He told me,’ Nikandros winced as he shifted, trying to get a little comfier against the pillows he was leaning his chest on. ‘You don’t know what you walked in on, do you?’

‘I don’t want to.’ Laurent stood abruptly. ‘I’ll leave you. I wish you a speedy recovery.’

‘Talk to Damen,’ Nikandros said softly, as Laurent headed to the tent’s exit. ‘Trust me.’

‘You were about to fuck Damen,’ Laurent said flatly. ‘Knowing what you know.’

‘Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t listen to me.’

‘That’s exactly why I shouldn’t listen to you.’ Laurent left, ignoring the sigh of defeat from Nikandros’ bed.

***

Damen had the very distinct, and correct, feeling that Laurent was avoiding him. Since the uprising, he’d left whenever he’d seen Damen coming, and had told his guard to keep him out of and away from his tent.

They were trying to restore balance to the camp, with most of the men either shaken or annoyed that people with nefarious ideals had managed to sneak their way in. Only two hundred or so men had been lost, but that wasn’t including the fifty that had started the fights around the camp. Many more were injured, but Damen’s first priority became pretending Laurent didn’t exist, as he organized the burial and funereal rites for those lost.

It was decided, universally, that Govart would not receive them. His actions were not Roman, and therefore, neither was he. He didn’t deserve them.

When everything was set, Damen tentatively turned his attention back to Laurent. His ideas for the best course of action he could take were trying to either corner him or sneak past his guards. He _had_ to explain what had happened, needed to apologise or _something_ to make Laurent stop glaring at him like _he’d_ been the one to organise an infiltration.

Laurent looked at him like a traitor, which Damen supposed he kind of was, but he couldn’t stand to see that look pointed in his direction.

Until the funeral was held, there were to be no war councils, as they didn’t plan on moving anywhere for at least a few more days until Nikandros was well and healed enough to travel. That gave Damen some time to talk to Laurent and figure out what was going on. He’d been distant before walking in on Damen’s activities with Nik, so surely something else was going on that Damen hadn’t realised. He didn’t like not knowing things, and this would be no exception.

Damen decided to be sneaky. Or, rather, as sneaky as he could be while injured and healing a bunch of cuts, thanks to Govart and his friends.

He waited around the corner of some tents near Laurent’s, waiting for the man himself to emerge and his guards to follow him, leaving his tent open and available. He waited until Laurent was out of sight before making his way casually towards the tent, looking around to make sure no one was watching – or cared – and slipped inside.

Damen chose the corner by the door, where he’d be out of sight when Laurent came in, and able to block the door. Not that he wouldn’t leave if Laurent asked him to, he was just trying to… well. Corner him. Capture him. It didn’t sound good and felt like an even worse plan once he pushed as close to the walls of the tent as he could without being obvious from outside.

No, definitely a bad idea.

It could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been an hour until Laurent came back, but at least Damen had a moment to prepare himself when he heard Laurent outside giving orders to his guards. It didn’t sound like he knew anything about someone being in his tent, so Damen assumed no one who had seen him slip in had told Laurent.

Then again, he had always been a good actor.

Damen’s heart jumped when Laurent pushed through the entrance. When he stopped in the middle, something in his demeanour changed, before he slowly turned around, face unreadable.

‘What do you want?’ he asked.

Damen stepped out of the shadows and cleared his throat. ‘I thought that was a good hiding spot.’

‘You were wrong. What is it?’

‘I haven’t seen you since everything happened, and I wanted to know how you were.’

‘Don’t pretend you care,’ Laurent said flatly. ‘Get out of my tent.’

‘So I’m guessing you’re okay,’ Damen said, ignoring him. He looked Laurent over, at the careful way he was holding himself, at the slight strain on his face, and the tightness in one arm. ‘No, not completely.’

‘Is that right?’ Laurent rolled his eyes. ‘How would you know?’

Damen raised his eyebrows and walked across the tent to stand directly in front of Laurent. He lifted his hand and pushed the thumb into the joint of Laurent’s right shoulder, holding it for a few moments until Laurent grimaced and drew away, a spot of red on his tunic. ‘I know you,’ Damen said quietly. ‘But I don’t know what I did to make you hate me.’

‘You know _exactly_ what you did,’ Laurent hissed. ‘He’s in his bed on a mound of pillows.’

‘Nothing happened with Nikandros.’

‘Liar.’

‘Nothing that you _think_ you know happened with Nikandros.’

‘And what do you think I think I know?’

‘You think I fucked him,’ Damen said simply. ‘I didn’t.’

‘Explain to me why you were naked, then? Just strengthening your friendship? Some sports – wrestling, perhaps?’ Laurent asked, visibly holding back a sneer.

Damen shrugged. ‘Well he was sucking my cock, but that’s about it.’

Laurent laughed incredulously. ‘Oh, that’s it?’

‘I stopped it from going any further. I couldn’t… not when you –’

‘Are you blaming _me_?’ Laurent interrupted. ‘Did I make you go find the first available warm mouth?’

‘You shut me _out_ ,’ Damen said, stepping up closer to him, their chests a hair’s breadth apart. ‘I was feeling – _you_ cut me off, Laurent! What was I supposed to do? Wait for you when you didn’t want it?’

‘You amaze me sometimes,’ Laurent shook his head. ‘You just fucking amaze me.’

‘What –’

‘Just get out.’

‘No, not until you say you’ll stop avoiding me.’

‘Why? Because Nikandros is out of commission? Am I the next best thing for you?’

Damen clenched his jaw, took a deep breath, and a few steps back. Of course Laurent would suggest that about himself. He was probably used to it with Auguste for a brother. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘You’re not the next best. You _are_ –’

‘Don’t,’ Laurent held up a hand. ‘Don’t say something you can’t take back, Damen.’

‘Look, Nik is a friend. He won’t be more than that, even if we’d…’ Damen paused a moment, ‘but we didn’t. And we won’t, because I can’t. I never intended to hurt you, Laurent. I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry if anything I did or have done gave you any impression other than what you won’t let me say.’

For a fraction of a second, Laurent looked utterly beaten. Then he lifted his eyes to Damen’s and nodded, mask slipped back on. ‘Okay.’

Damen blinked. ‘Okay? Is that it?’

‘What else do you want from me, Damen?’ Laurent sounded tired.

‘I just want you to stop ignoring me, stop running away when you see me in the distance. I don’t expect us to go back to…’ Damen pursed his lips and tried again. ‘I just want you…’ he trailed off helplessly.

‘You just want me,’ Laurent repeated quietly. ‘That’s not much to ask for, is it?’

‘Let’s just say as a friend, okay? Start small.’

‘That’s as good as it’ll get for you, Damen,’ Laurent said. ‘I don’t take betrayal lightly.’

‘I know.’

Laurent looked at him and let out a deep sigh. ‘Fine. Are we done here?’

‘Fine?’ Damen asked tentatively. ‘We’re friends again?’

‘I’m not sure we were ever actually friends, but I’ll stop avoiding you. Is that good enough?’

‘More than.’

‘Good. Now, do I need to call in my guards, or are you going to leave my tent of your own accord?’

Damen nodded. ‘I’ll leave –’

‘Great, bye.’

‘ _If_ ,’ Damen continued, ignoring the interruption, ‘you tell me how you injured your shoulder.’

Laurent glanced at the slowly growing patch of red on his tunic and hummed. ‘Govart stabbed me with a knife from my uncle.’

‘He – what?’

‘And then I cut his head off,’ Laurent smiled serenely.

‘With a knife in your sword arm?’

‘With a knife in my sword arm.’

‘I’ll be going, then.’

‘You do that.’

Damen cleared his throat and left the tent, and as he vanished through the door, Laurent sat heavily into one of his chairs.

He knew it, he _fucking_ knew it. One little apology from Damen, and he was right back where he couldn’t be. He’d tried, he’d been given good reason to cut things off with him, and instead, they were right back where they’d been. Maybe not with quite as much fondling, but he was sure it would come, no matter how much he tried to stop it.

Damen, that bastard, was under his skin. Laurent didn’t think there was much point in fighting it anymore.

***

Moving the camp was as easy as it had been before Nikandros’ injuries. He had been given the all clear by Paschal to ride a horse and resume _very_ light training, but he wasn’t allowed to wear any kind of armour for at least another few days, longer if he could manage it. The camp was moving north, following directions from a roster of scouts all being sent to double check each other’s claims. They weren’t taking any risks now.

Spending nights in the command tent together was seeing Laurent and Damen refreshing their friendship, much to Laurent’s dismay. He wasn’t sure how conflicted he should be about it, because he… _enjoyed_ Damen’s company, even he didn’t want to; even as he refused to think about what it meant. He’d been attached before, and he didn’t want that to happen again. It still stood that when they got back to Rome, they wouldn’t be able to keep this up. They _couldn’t_ , there was too much expected of them as men of a certain standing.

Laurent truly had no interest in a wife, but he was sure Damen did, no matter what he said or how he acted. Laurent wouldn’t be able to fill that gap for him, and that was something he had to keep reminding himself of whenever Damen looked up from their piles of paper and smiled at him. Or when he accidentally brushed his hand against Laurent’s, reaching for the same jug of water, despite there being at least three on the table. Or when it was just the two of them in the tent, and Damen made an effort to put his hand on his hip when he went by.

Laurent’s resolve was slipping, though. Day by day, night by night, it was wearing down, and eventually there would be nothing left to stop him from taking what he wanted.

Damen walked him back to his tent each night now, under the guise of wanting to continue their conversation. He did, of course, but stopping at the door had a different feeling to it when Laurent knew what could happen if he asked. Now, the careful watch of his guards was probably the only thing keeping them apart.

They hadn’t done _anything_. They hadn’t even snuck a chaste kiss in the corner of a tent, or in an alley between the rows of accommodation for the soldiers. That was the one thing Laurent was sticking to, because once that happened – just one kiss – and he would be well and truly done for, and nothing would haul him back over the edge.

It was a very, _very_ dangerous game to be playing.

***

Damen was trying so hard to keep to Laurent’s boundaries. He wasn’t pushing anything on him, wasn’t being suggestive, or anything but a friend. He supposed that’s where they were at now, despite Laurent’s claim they had never been friends, and probably never would be. That had probably been wishful thinking on his behalf, because they were certainly _acting_ like friends now.

Laurent had even stopped glaring at Nikandros whenever he appeared in the command tent or they bumped into each other around the camp. Things were looking up.

Things were also becoming more intense the closer they got to Claudius’ position. They were holding drills as soon as camp was set, with Damen even going around and practicing or demonstrating to some of the younger, green recruits.

He was teaching them how to keep their shields locked properly in a close phalanx, making sure the younger men knew how to use their sword properly, when to abandon it and how to properly utilise their daggers. Damen made sure they all knew how to properly hold a pilum and how to throw it, so it covered a better distance and actually hit their target or hit _anything_ other than the ground in front of them, as seemed to be the case most of the time.

‘Look,’ Damen said, grabbing a spear from one of the soldiers near him. ‘You need to hold it properly – palm up, near the centre. Pull back, and twist as you throw. Show me.’ He handed the pilum back to the soldier and waved him forward. ‘Throw.’

The soldier looked nervously to Damen as he did as he was told, hand in the right place, but not enough action through his body, and the spear flew a few feet ahead before impaling itself in the dirt. ‘Not like that?’

‘Not like that,’ Damen agreed, taking his second pilum. ‘You have a very limited amount of space to get the kind of throw you need. There’s a spike on the end, remember, and if you end up killing the rank behind you because you pull too far back, I’ll be very annoyed.’ Damen took a breath and hefted the spear to his shoulder. He took a couple of steps forward, and on the last step, drew back and twisted his torso, giving more force to the throw.

The pilum seemed to fly almost out of eyesight, before it landed in the grass, swaying with the impact.

‘Well,’ the soldier said. ‘I’ll try to do that next time.’

‘Maybe practice without something to make sure you get the motion down. When we fight, those pila are the first line of defence.’

The soldier nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

Damen clapped him on the shoulder as he went past. ‘Keep practicing.’

‘That was… quite something,’ Laurent said, falling into step beside Damen as he headed to check on the groups doing drills with their gladiī.

‘What was?’ Damen asked, distracted by watching a couple of soldiers actually fighting. ‘I need to sort this, give me a moment.’

Laurent nodded and Damen ran forward, yelling at the two soldiers, who didn’t seem to hear him.

Laurent watched as Damen got right in the middle of the fight, drawing his own sword to cut between the two of them, kicking one backwards and yelling at them for being stupid, about how they didn’t need to lose any more men before the battle had even truly begun.

They had enough decency to look sheepish and listen to Damen’s instruction that they split and find new partners, leaving the supervising officer to make sure they did.

‘Sorry,’ Damen said, jogging back to him. ‘What did you want?’

‘We’re, uh –’ Laurent pulled his eyes from Damen’s bare biceps and took a breath. ‘We’re going over strategy. Claudius has settled, so Nikandros and Makedon want to get a plan in place as soon as possible.’

‘Do we know the terrain?’ Damen asked, as they walked together toward the command tent.

‘Yes, several scouts have come back confirming each other’s stories, and it looks like there’s a lake close by, but not near enough that Claudius has taken it as a stronghold of any kind.’

Damen nodded, grinning to Nikandros and Makedon as they entered the command tent. ‘Let’s plan a war.’

***

They were caught up, completely, to Claudius.

They were camped a while away, but close enough that by now, Claudius surely knew they were there and prepared to fight. The conservative estimate put his forces at twelve thousand men, meaning he’d grown them significantly since his defeat and betrayal of Traian. Along with the camp followers, he and his total force of nearly thirty thousand had experienced a small amount of difficulty with travelling. They weren’t exactly… inconspicuous.

Their plan was in place, and there was a buzz about the camp, the kind that came from the collective nerves of so many men in a confined space. It was very quiet, almost too quiet, as some made sacrifices and others just prayed. Damen had made sure the chickens weren’t going to be tampered with, either.

They ran final preparations in the war tent, going over the plan one more time to make sure everyone knew what to do, and what to do if that didn’t work, and that all the back up plans would end with Claudius’ defeat, no matter what happened.

They made the decision to retire early, because there was no point in spending the night obsessing over plans and getting no sleep. Makedon and Nik were off to clean and pray, and Damen, as he’d taken to doing, walked Laurent to his tent.

‘You’re dismissed,’ Laurent said to his guards. ‘Go do what you will.’

The guards nodded and left Damen alone with Laurent. He was about to say goodnight as well, no longer holding the hope of anything, when Laurent beckoned him inside his tent with a small jerk of his head.

‘Wine?’ Laurent offered, heading to his table of various jugs.

‘No,’ Damen said softly. ‘I don’t drink wine the night before a battle.’

Laurent made a noise. ‘Good, because I don’t have any.’

Damen smiled and looked around Laurent’s tent. He hadn’t been in here recently. Nothing had changed, except the location. His bed was still piled with furs and blankets, a pillow or two too many, and he somehow had the same pile of papers on his desk.

‘Letters,’ Laurent explained, noticing Damen’s interest in them and holding a cup of water to him, ‘from my brother.’

‘Auguste?’

‘Yes. I only have the one brother.’

‘I didn’t know he wrote to you.’

‘He doesn’t write to you?’ Laurent asked.

‘No,’ Damen frowned. ‘What does he say?’

Laurent shrugged. He could do that now, his shoulder was almost completely healed, like the cuts on Damen’s arms from Govart’s men. ‘He mainly wishes me luck in battle and tells me to stay behind you.’

‘Does he know…’

‘About us? No.’

‘I –’ Damen bit back a laugh. There was no _us_. ‘About me. Claudius’ defeat over me.’

‘Oh,’ Laurent sipped his water. ‘Yes. Not the extent, but he knows I came to your aid with Nikandros and Makedon.’

Damen nodded. ‘Are you scared?’

‘I don’t know,’ Laurent said, poking at his letters. ‘I suppose. I have nothing to compare it to, but I’m nervous. Maybe excited. I wasn’t expecting my first major battle to be against other Romans, but…’

‘I never expected to fight Romans, either. I wonder if it will feel like I’m fulfilling some kind of… something set by the Fates, you know? The Hellene in me feels almost vindicated, like I’m following in the steps of Achilles against Priam or something.’

‘Did you just call yourself Achilles?’

Damen made a noncommittal noise. ‘Maybe you’re Achilles, I hear he was blond.’

‘I don’t think I’m Achilles.’

‘You could be,’ Damen said, setting down his cup and carefully tucking a strand of hair behind Laurent’s ear. ‘Blond, beautiful, dangerous.’

‘You think I’m beautiful,’ Laurent said quietly.

‘You knew that.’ Damen glanced down to Laurent’s lips. _I don’t want you to kiss me anymore._ He turned away and towards the bed. ‘It could be our last night, you know. Our last chance to –’

‘What are you trying to say, Damen?’

‘You know what I’m saying.’ Damen looked back to him. ‘If we die tomorrow, I don’t want to have any regrets.’

‘I thought we weren’t going to die tomorrow.’

‘I still wouldn’t regret it.’

Laurent took a breath, visibly fighting with himself for so long, Damen took it as an answer.

‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured, touching a hand to Laurent’s shoulder as he moved to leave. ‘I should never have suggested it.’

‘Wait,’ Laurent said, catching Damen’s wrist and moving his hand down his chest. ‘Don’t go.’

Damen turned back to face Laurent, searching his eyes for something. His own softened when he found it, the vulnerability and acceptance, the offer in Laurent’s. ‘You want me to stay?’

Laurent bit his lip a little, barely noticeable in the dim light of the tent. He trailed his fingers lightly over Damen’s wrist to lace their fingers together over his heart. ‘I don’t want you to leave me alone tonight.’

‘I won’t,’ Damen said slowly. ‘I promise.’

‘Okay,’ Laurent agreed, voice barely a whisper. ‘Good.’

‘Do you…’

Laurent nodded. ‘Armour first.’

Damen reluctantly let go of Laurent’s hand, unbuckling his armour as fast as he could to get back to him. ‘Everything?’

‘Of course, no shoes on my bed,’ Laurent muttered, bending to untie his shoes and step out of them. He waited in his tunic uncertainly, even as Damen shed his own. ‘I didn’t know you’d been injured so… much.’

Damen looked to the lines that went over his chest, connected to the ones on his arms. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Not quite battle wounds. A little more artistic.’

Laurent stepped forward and traced them lightly, looking up to Damen with his eyes wide. ‘You’ve always been very… attractive.’

‘Have I?’

Laurent raised an eyebrow and echoed his words from before. ‘You knew that.’

‘Have you always wanted me?’ Damen asked, tentatively putting his hands on Laurent’s clothed hips.

Laurent nodded. ‘Why do you think I hated you so much?’

‘I always assumed it was because I spent so much time with Auguste.’

‘That was part of it,’ Laurent admitted, trailing his hands down Damen’s arms to his wrists, pulling his hands away gently. ‘You were untouchable, and I wanted nothing more than to touch you.’

‘You can touch me,’ Damen said immediately. ‘I want you to.’

‘I know you do,’ Laurent pulled his tunic over his head, dropping it to the ground, leaving them both naked. ‘I want…’

‘What?’ Damen asked, putting his hands straight back on Laurent, rubbing his thumbs in circles into his skin. ‘Tell me what you want.’

Laurent placed one hand on Damen’s neck and the other on a scarring shoulder, as he leaned up to whisper, ‘I want you to take me.’

‘Take you where?’ Damen asked. When he drew back and looked into Laurent’s eyes, he knew. ‘Oh. Have you –’

‘Yes, I have. A few times.’

‘No,’ Damen cracked a small smile. ‘Have you got any oil, Laurent.’

Laurent blushed beautifully and headed to the chest at the end of his bed, rummaging around for a few moments. ‘I have that, too.’

‘Get on the bed,’ Damen said, taking the vial and putting it on the floor beside the bed, joining Laurent in the layers of plush blanketing and bracing himself over him. Laurent’s hair was fanned out on the pillow and – truly – Damen would’ve thought him a god, though he dared not speak it.

‘What?’ Laurent asked, amused. ‘You’ve seen me naked before.’

‘I’ve never been allowed to enjoy it, though.’

Laurent rolled his eyes. ‘Take your time, then.’

‘I will,’ Damen said, and so began making his way down Laurent’s body. He paused at his throat, kissing the spot under the hollow where he had a vague memory of once marking him. He paused at the new scar on his shoulder, a thin line of white against his already pale skin. He paused in working his way down his chest – at a peaked nipple, at his soft belly, and at the hard line of his hips.

He looked up from there to see Laurent watching him, eyes bright and lips parted.

‘Do you want me to –’

‘No,’ Laurent shook his head. ‘I just want you inside me.’

‘Didn’t I promise you once I’d take you apart slowly?’

‘You’ve already done that,’ Laurent said. ‘I just – I just need you tonight.’

Damen nodded, reaching over the side of the bed for the oil and removing the stopper to get some on his hand. ‘Are you ready?’

Laurent paused for a moment, before he moved, rearranging himself onto his knees, legs spread. ‘Yes.’

‘No.’

Laurent glanced back over his shoulder, confused. ‘No?’

‘I want to see you,’ Damen said. ‘On your back.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

Laurent sighed and flopped onto his back again, opening his legs for Damen inside them. ‘Now, Damen.’

Damen resisted the urge to smile triumphantly, placing another kiss on Laurent’s shoulder, as he moved his hand to circle one finger around his rim. He breached it, pushing in slowly and drawing out a low noise from Laurent. ‘Good?’ he asked, moving it in and out.

Laurent nodded. ‘Good. Another.’

‘Another?’

‘I can take it.’

Damen huffed at his impatience, adding another finger a few moments later, spreading them out a little to prepare Laurent. He wanted to say something, but he felt like whatever he did would ruin this… _thing_ there was between them right now.

‘I’m good,’ Laurent said after a while. ‘Do it.’

‘Laurent, I’m bigger than –’

‘Damen,’ Laurent interrupted flatly. ‘You’re big, but don’t try to convince me you have Rome’s biggest cock, okay?’

Damen blinked and opened his mouth, before he shut it again and grabbed the oil to pour some in his palm and slick himself. He hovered over Laurent and lined up, spreading a little more oil around to make it easier, and began breaching him.

Laurent’s hands fisted in the blankets under them as he gasped, hooking one leg over Damen’s waist out of reflex. He didn’t make any other noises, which surprised Damen, but _fuck_ , he looked gorgeous. With his head tipped back like that, the long line of his throat was exposed, and Damen wanted nothing more than to put his lips on it.

So he did, kissing softly as he pushed further in. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, once he bottomed out. ‘Is it too much?’

Laurent shook his head. ‘No – no, it’s good. It’s perfect.’

‘Perfect,’ Damen repeated, looking down at him. He couldn’t agree more. With Laurent allowing him in like this, so warm and tight around him and so open and vulnerable under him. Damen leaned forward, resting his forehead on Laurent’s shoulder as he drew back and slowly pushed in again, drawing the lightest, gentlest moan from him.

One of Laurent’s hands disentangled from the sheets and appeared on the nape of Damen’s neck, carding lightly through his hair, encouraging almost. His other leg wound around Damen’s waist, drawing him closer in, welcome and wanting.

Damen was so lost in Laurent, but _fuck_ , he wanted more. There was nothing much else for him to have, except the one hand Laurent had kept in the furs, like he was holding on for dear life, afraid maybe he’d vanish, and this would end if he didn’t; like he was trying to ground himself to this moment, to Damen.

Damen reached down, gently prying Laurent’s fingers from the blankets, and lacing their fingers as he brought Laurent’s arm up, above his head onto the pillow. Laurent’s hand was soft, like the rest of his skin, and Damen thought it a crime he hadn’t spent as much time holding it as he possibly could.

Maybe he’d lied earlier. If they died tomorrow, he’d have one regret, and it was not holding Laurent’s hand more. Damen didn’t think he’d ever get tired of it, and the way Laurent was gripping him now, like he was his one point of contact with the earth, Damen was tempted to think Laurent felt the same.

A brief thought flicked across his mind that maybe, they might fight like Patroclus and Achilles, Damen might… Damen might _love_ him like Patroclus and Achilles, ready to fight and die by his side, but maybe they were like Orpheus and Eurydice, too. Damen would cross untold boundaries for Laurent, he’d do _anything_ for him. But the one thing he wouldn’t do would be look back and lose him. Damen was sure he’d have more willpower to keep Laurent than even one who had crossed into the Underworld for their lover.

‘Damen,’ Laurent breathed, his hand running across Damen’s back. ‘You feel so good.’

Damen just nodded, placing a kiss on Laurent’s shoulder in response. _You feel so good, too. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect._ He didn’t think anything he tried to say would come out right, so he just stayed quiet, kept moving slowly in and out, until Laurent would ask him to change something.

‘I want –’ Laurent’s breath hitched, and when Damen drew back to look at him, he saw Laurent’s eyes closed and a small tear running from his eye into the hair at his temple.

‘Are you okay?’ Damen asked.

Laurent’s eyes fluttered open and he nodded. ‘I’m fine, I just…’ he blinked. ‘I want you to go faster.’

‘Are you crying because I’m going too slow?’

Damen knew he wouldn’t get an honest answer, and he didn’t. ‘Yes,’ Laurent said. ‘That’s exactly right.’

Damen let him have that moment and kissed his forehead. ‘Okay,’ he murmured, picking up the pace a little, getting faster and watching Laurent’s face until he thought it was enough.

Laurent’s face twisted in something like pleasure as Damen sought out the spot in him that would make him see stars. ‘Harder,’ he breathed, clawing at Damen’s back and pushing the heel of his foot into the base of Damen’s spine. ‘Please.’

Damen did as much, drawing out beautiful little moans from Laurent, before he bit into his lip hard enough for it to go white, and Damen thought he might bite clean through it. ‘Laurent, I’m –’

‘Not yet,’ Laurent said. ‘Not yet.’

‘I can’t –’

‘Damen,’ Laurent interrupted. ‘Kiss me.’

Damen didn’t need to be asked twice, and leaned in, kissing Laurent with everything he knew he wasn’t allowed to say. _You’re perfect. You’re everything I want. You’re just everything. You make me feel ways I didn’t think I could. I think I might be in love with you. I want you for as long as you’ll have me and longer after that._ He settled for breaking off to moan weakly, ‘Laurent.’

‘I’m here,’ Laurent whispered, punctuating his statement by digging his fingers harder into Damen’s, by tightening his legs around his waist, by clenching around him where they were joined at their most intimate points. ‘Damen – I think I might be –’

‘I know,’ Damen nodded, as he made to pull away, sure Laurent wouldn’t want –

‘No,’ Laurent pulled him back in. ‘I want you to come inside me. I want to feel it.’

‘You’re gonna make me –’

‘I want you to,’ Laurent interrupted. ‘Damen, I want you to, I want you –’

Damen cut him off, kissing him deeply as he did as Laurent asked, and fighting down the part of him that preened when he felt Laurent come hotly between them. He barely opened his eyes in time to catch Laurent’s gasp of ecstasy.

Damen didn’t want to pull out, but he couldn’t keep himself above Laurent like this much longer, and fell to the side, reluctantly releasing Laurent’s hand as he did. He nuzzled into Laurent’s neck, placing one, two kisses there with a deep sigh. ‘I told you,’ he mumbled, giving a third kiss, and trailing a hand down to the mess on Laurent’s stomach, ‘that I’d make you come just from being inside you.’

Laurent laughed quietly. ‘You kept your word.’

‘I always keep my word.’

‘I’m still yet to see those six hours.’

‘Seven.’

Laurent rolled to his side to face Damen, hitching a leg around his hip. ‘I wouldn’t mind spending seven hours in your bed.’

‘Well, we have the whole night,’ Damen said, kissing Laurent’s lips now he could reach them. ‘Sleep is overrated.’

‘Maybe,’ Laurent agreed, placing his hand on Damen’s jaw to tilt it closer, ‘but I would like to sleep a little all the same.’

‘How long do we have?’ Damen asked. ‘When are you going to make me leave?’

‘Not yet,’ Laurent sighed, moving back against Damen’s hand, where it had dipped between his legs, a finger circling the messy rim. ‘I said you were here for the night, and I meant it.’

‘You’re going to let me stay the night?’

‘Well, do you want to leave?’

 _Never._ ‘No.’

‘Then we’re in agreement.’ Laurent pulled his leg higher up Damen’s waist, humming contentedly as Damen pushed a finger back in. ‘Be faster this time, I have food brought around now every night.’

‘I don’t do fast,’ Damen said, kissing Laurent’s neck again.

‘I have a couple of memories that say otherwise.’

‘You can’t hold that against me forever.’

Laurent smiled, twisting the fingers of one hand into Damen’s hair. ‘Watch me.’

***

As the night started to fade, Damen reluctantly decided it was time to leave. He needed to go back to his own tent to clean, to pray, and to prepare to fight without the distraction of Laurent.

‘I’ll see you before the battle,’ Damen promised, standing at the doors to Laurent’s tent, the man himself swaddled in a blanket. ‘Then we’re off to fight Romans.’

‘You won’t have a problem with it,’ Laurent said quietly. ‘You may be Roman, but we both know your heart beats for Hellas.’

Damen didn’t deny it. ‘We need to see the augur and go check the chickens.’

‘I hope they eat cake for us.’

‘I hope they do, too,’ Damen pressed his lips to Laurent’s hair. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Something about Laurent was off. He’d woken up after their last bout, and he was different. Shuttered off, somehow. Closed in a way he hadn’t been in weeks. He nodded and pecked Damen’s lips, going up on his toes and rubbing a thumb along his jaw. ‘I’ll see you.’

‘Laurent, I –’

‘Don’t,’ Laurent interrupted softly. ‘Please don’t say anything final, or anything you can’t take back.’

‘I wasn’t going to. We’ll get through this, I have no doubts,’ Damen said, placing a hand reassuringly on Laurent’s hip. ‘I just want to say something, and I don’t want you to interrupt me, okay?’

‘I can’t guarantee that for anything you say over ten words.’

Damen smiled fondly. ‘I know. I just want you to know… I’m yours, you know that, right?’

Laurent looked down, very pointedly moving backwards, away from Damen’s hand. ‘I think you should leave, Damen.’

‘Laurent, say something. Don’t leave me hanging, here.’

Laurent looked back up, and – _oh_ – that was the difference. He was… cold again. ‘I don’t want you.’


	8. Disobedience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case it's not immediately apparent, this takes place the night of the previous chapter. (if you follow me on twitter, this is the chapter i've been referring to as "i'm pulling a ch. 19.5" bc like... it's ch. 7.5 lol)

‘Do you always get food like this?’ Damen asked, plucking a grape and popping it in his mouth. ‘I never get grapes.’

‘Don’t you?’ Laurent asked, taking the fig from the plate and cutting it in half, pushing one side to Damen. ‘I just ask for them.’

Damen looked up, at Laurent with his blanket slipping off his shoulder, sitting on his chair like he had not a care in the world. ‘You were spoiled in Rome.’

‘You lived in my house,’ Laurent waved his knife in the air in some kind of indistinguishable gesture.

‘Exactly, it was _your_ house,’ Damen raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s this? Is this a cake?’

Laurent cut it in half as well. ‘Yes. I like sweet things.’

‘Am I sweet, then?’

Laurent raised an eyebrow, slicing off a sliver from his part and chewing it thoughtfully. ‘Who said I liked you?’

‘Ouch,’ Damen laughed. ‘Another question.’

‘Mm?’

‘Do you usually retrieve your food from the door of your tent while dressed only in a blanket?’

Laurent shrugged. The blanket slipped further. ‘I like to mix it up.’

‘Is that a yes?’ Damen hummed. ‘Maybe I should take up a job bringing you food. Maybe I’d get to see you naked more often.’

Laurent cracked a small smile. ‘I think you’re the only person who has ever seen me quite this naked.’

‘Really? How else have you been fucking people if not… naked?’

‘In a rush,’ Laurent waved his knife again. ‘The men I know are very prudish.’

‘You know me. I’m not prudish,’ Damen argued, taking Laurent’s knife to cut into an apple.

‘I was never in your bed in Rome.’

‘Maybe you should be.’

Laurent kept his eyes on his cake picking pieces off it slowly, crumbling it between his fingertips. ‘You fuck men in Rome?’

‘I fuck men in my house, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Was it a man you went seven hours with?’

Damen shrugged. ‘It started as a man and a woman. She left after the first round.’

‘So that’s a yes.’

‘I suppose.’

Laurent nodded. ‘I’ve never fucked a woman.’

‘Do you want to?’

‘No.’

Damen handed back the knife. ‘There’s a phrase – Hellas invented sex, and the Romans discovered you could do it with a woman.’

Laurent’s smile came back as he looked up. ‘Best of both worlds for you, then?’

‘I think I’ve found the best,’ Damen said, giving Laurent a meaningful look, and drawing that wonderful blush back into his cheeks.

Damen thought he was lucky to have landed at this moment, to have been given the opportunity to have Laurent like this. Now he was thinking clearer, he was certain the thought he’d had earlier was true – he was in love with Laurent.

He didn’t know that Laurent was having the same thought but considering it as much less of a good thing. He knew this was where they would end up, and it hurt more than he’d thought it would to consider how he’d need to end it.

Damen – beautiful, strong, _kind_ Damen – was everything he’d wanted since before he could remember, and now he had him, he wasn’t allowed to keep him. The thought caused him an almost burning pain, so he was trying not to think about it. But they were running out of time, and if this was the only chance Laurent was going to be allowed to pretend this could last, then he was going to make the most of it.

He set down the knife on the table and stood, rounding his chair to where Damen was, naked, on the other chair at the table. Laurent straddled his legs, flicking his blanket out of the way to sit, skin on skin. ‘How long do you think it’s been?’

‘Since?’ Damen asked, picking another grape with one hand, while his other came up automatically to rest on approximately where Laurent’s hip was under the blanket.

‘Since you came into my tent.’

‘Maybe an hour. Probably only just fully dark outside by now.’

Laurent hummed, and leaned down to kiss Damen’s bare shoulder. By the gods, he smelled good. Laurent couldn’t even put a name to what most of him consisted of, just leather and salt. Maybe a little like grapes now, too. ‘We need to beat seven hours.’

‘Tonight?’

‘In case tomorrow…’ Laurent couldn’t finish that thought.

Damen’s eyes softened and his other hand came to Laurent’s back, rubbing it soothingly through the blanket. ‘Nothing is going to happen tomorrow. We’ll be fine.’

‘You’re leading the cavalry, Damen.’

‘And you’ll be with the infantry. We’ll be in our elements, and we’ll be okay.’

‘I just – battles can last all day…’

‘And we’ll see each other at the end of it,’ Damen said reassuringly. ‘I promise, Laurent. We will do this, we’ll beat Claudius, and then we can go home, and –’

‘No,’ Laurent whispered. ‘Don’t talk of home.’

He couldn’t bear to think of making plans for when – _if_ – they made it back to Rome. Damen would pick up his life, keep fucking women and making babies and getting _married_ and Laurent would be left alone to pick up the pieces.

‘Laurent, when we get back –’

‘No,’ Laurent repeated, standing and taking Damen’s hand. ‘Not tonight.’

Damen stood, following Laurent back to the bed and shuffling away from the edge to lie in the middle of it. ‘How do you want me?’

‘Like this,’ Laurent said, climbing onto the bed to straddle Damen’s hips again, dragging the blanket along with him. ‘Stay still.’

Damen frowned but nodded. ‘Am I allowed to touch you?’

‘When I say.’ Laurent released the blanket, letting it fall from his shoulders, as he grabbed the oil from where they’d discarded it a little further across the bed. He poured a small amount into his hand and slicked Damen up again, before reaching one hand behind himself to line up Damen’s hardening cock with his hole, still loose from their previous activities.

He sunk down on Damen, easily accepting him back into his body with a sigh. Under him, Damen’s eyes were shut tightly, and his hands twitched at his sides, like he desperately wanted to touch Laurent, but didn’t want to disobey him.

That could be fun.

‘Damen,’ Laurent murmured, settling on his hips. ‘I want you to look at me, and I want you to watch me take what I want from you.’

Damen nodded. ‘Can I –’

‘You can’t touch me,’ Laurent said, beginning to move slowly, ‘and you can’t talk unless I say. Understood?’

Damen nodded again, his eyes wide as he watched Laurent, and his fists curling into the blankets under him. There was something he clearly wanted to say, but Laurent wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, and instead, set about doing exactly as he pleased.

He moved slowly at first, enjoying the look on Damen’s face when he clenched his muscles periodically, squeezing the length inside him. Laurent soon got bored of that, however, and started moving faster, making small adjustments to the angle of his body in attempt to try and find the spot inside him that he liked so much.

‘Laurent –’ Damen said, snapping his mouth shut again.

‘What is it?’ Laurent said, giving up for the moment and just raising and lowering himself slightly faster.

‘Permission to speak?’

‘Granted.’

‘I know what you’re trying to do, and I can get it.’

‘Maybe in a moment,’ Laurent hummed, grinding his hips against Damen’s and smiling at the noise it pulled from Damen’s throat, the way his hands twitched again.

Laurent arched his back, leaning most of his weight on his palms when he planted them firmly on the bed between Damen’s legs. He gasped at the feeling inside him and ground down a little, rolling his hips in small, circular movements. He was going slower than he usually liked, but there was something about Damen letting him take control that was really doing it for him.

With his hair tossed over his shoulder, the ends gently swayed against the top of his back as he moved, and Laurent knew Damen was desperate to touch it.

Laurent pushed back up and looked down at Damen, his eyes dark with lust and skin taut over the muscles of his stomach. His hands were clenched in the blankets beneath him, and Laurent could tell he was fighting himself not to disobey him. He could help with that.

Laurent pried Damen’s hands free and ignored him trying to lace their fingers together, instead circling a thumb and forefinger around each of Damen’s wrists. Laurent’s hands weren’t quite big enough to do it fully, but he also knew Damen wouldn’t fight him. As he leaned forward to kiss along the underside of Damen’s jaw, he drew his arms up, over his head to rest at the top of the bed, captured in Laurent’s hands. Damen’s hips bucked involuntarily as he slipped out of Laurent almost completely, with just the tip of him still inside.

‘Laurent –’

Laurent pulled back from Damen’s neck to raise his eyebrows. ‘I thought I said you weren’t allowed to talk.’

Damen groaned, making another aborted move towards Laurent’s ass, flexing his fingers with a grimace when he achieved nothing.

‘Stop moving,’ Laurent said, trying very hard not to sound like he was enjoying it. Which he was. Laurent was having an even better time than he’d anticipated, and he was a little surprised Damen was still playing along.

He removed one of his hands, pinning Damen’s up with just one left to trap them both above the pillows, and reached back to trace the soft skin of his cock. Another small buck.

Laurent smiled, letting go completely of Damen’s hands, but giving him a look to make sure he knew to keep them there. He ran his fingers lightly over the tight skin of his hole and pushed back onto Damen in one motion, taking him completely to the hilt.

Damen gasped at the feeling in tandem with Laurent, pushing his hands further into the pillow instead of onto Laurent like he clearly wanted.

‘You’ve been good,’ Laurent said, running his hands over Damen’s chest, leaning forward again to whisper in his ear, ‘so I’ll let you touch me.’

Damen groaned in relief, reaching to Laurent. He started by dragging his hands over Laurent’s thighs, the sword callouses on his palms sending shivers up Laurent’s spine, grabbing and kneading the back of his legs and up to his ass. One hand stayed there, the gentle pain of his grip adding to the sensations Laurent was needing to catalogue in his mind, while the other continued to wander.

It started by coming around to stroke Laurent’s neglected cock a few times, before running his hand up Laurent’s chest to thumb one of his nipples, pinching it briefly and making Laurent hiss at the quick flare of pain. He cupped his pectoral for a second, then brought his hand slowly back down Laurent’s chest to circle the base of his dick again.

He slid his fingers up and down, dipping his thumb into the slit, just to get another reaction out of Laurent, but apparently, he had bigger plans. ‘Can I sit up?’

Laurent nodded, winding one arm around Damen’s shoulders as he moved into a sitting position, and twisted his other hand into Damen’s hair. He was using his new position to his advantage, and Laurent moaned softly when Damen moved a hand around to his ass, running his fingers down to where Laurent was still sliding up and down Damen’s cock in tiny movements, and gently rubbed the stretched rim. Apparently he’d noticed Laurent liked that.

He dug his nails into Damen’s shoulder, tipping his head forward to mouth at the side of his throat again. Damen was doing something he hadn’t been given permission for by biting into his shoulder, but at this point, Laurent didn’t think he cared too much. Part of him wanted Damen to mark him, to give him something that would last longer than their sham of a relationship.

It hurt him to remember this was all they’d get, so he steered his thoughts back to whatever Damen was doing with his hands. Just touching where he entered Laurent, feeling the thick vein on the underside, slick with oil and remnants of his own come. The added pressure was better coming from him.

Into the skin under Damen’s ear, Laurent murmured, ‘Put them in.’

‘What?’

‘That wasn’t a suggestion,’ Laurent said, biting his lip as Damen crooked a couple of fingers in past his rim as well, and stretching him just that little bit more that it felt like a whole new world to Laurent.

‘Is that –’

‘Shut up,’ Laurent gasped, rolling his hips and getting lost in the feeling. He was so _full_ , and he still wanted more. He didn’t think he could form a sentence, but he was going to try. ‘That...’

‘Laurent –’ Damen tried.

‘No.’

‘ _Laurent –_ ’

‘ _What?_ ’

‘Let me take over,’ he said, voice a little strained.

‘I suppose,’ Laurent said, whimpering pathetically when Damen withdrew his fingers, but instead wrapped his arm securely around Laurent’s back and flipped them, so he was caging Laurent into the bedding.

Damen dragged a hand down to Laurent’s calf to pull his leg higher up his hip, as he mouthed at his throat. ‘I’m gonna make you feel so good.’

Laurent nodded, and curled his hand into the sheets over his head. ‘Do your worst.’

‘I’ll do nothing but my best,’ Damen said, angling his hips and beginning to pump in and out of Laurent, almost the whole length, from the base to the tip. It was harder and faster than what Laurent had been doing, and he was right – he felt _so_ good.

Laurent was glad he was holding the blankets, because he was afraid Damen’s thrusts would send him off the bed with that much force. The thought made him laugh, and he kept laughing until he was cut off by a punctuated move that turned his laughter abruptly into a long, drawn out moan.

That was when Laurent realised how close he was, and how close Damen must be to have such uneven movements. He reached up and pulled Damen down into a kiss, before he broke it off and murmured, ‘Come for me.’

Damen buried his face in Laurent’s neck with a groan, coming in him a third time. Laurent could feel it inside him, and all it took was Damen to reach between them and run his fingers up Laurent’s aching cock before he came, too.

‘I think,’ Laurent said, spreading his legs a little to accommodate Damen as he collapsed partly on him, ‘we should have a small sleep now.’

Damen hummed, lazily kissing his shoulder. ‘Only a small one. You wanted seven hours, remember.’

‘Seven hours,’ Laurent was quiet for a moment, ignoring the thoughts that flooded back into his mind as he began tracing patterns on Damen’s back, before he said softly, ‘Maybe one day.’


	9. Viscera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh general warnings for this chapter tbh

The sun was only beginning to crest when Damen met up with the rest of the generals. Makedon and Nikandros were preparing to meet up with their men, and Damen’s horse had already been prepared for him to join the cavalry. Everything was in place, everything was ready, and they’d had word from the scouts that Claudius was preparing to fight as well.

They walked together to the augur, because Damen was going to watch those chickens eat a fucking cake if it was the last thing he did. Which it could well be. He hoped it wouldn’t be, but the chickens would decide.

Laurent was already there with Lazar and Orlant, and they were talking in hushed tones about the plan, running over their positions one more time.

Damen ignored Laurent, addressing the other two with a simple nod. He could feel Nik _waiting_ to ask, but he was very sensibly staying quiet, probably well aware how stressed Damen was about this whole thing.

‘The chickens,’ Damen said to the augur, who gave him a cake. Damen took a deep breath and leaned down to mutter at them, ‘Don’t you dare fuck this up for me again,’ and tossed the cake into their holding.

There was a collective sigh of relief as the chickens started pecking at it and kept pecking at it with growing enthusiasm.

‘Good,’ the augur nodded. ‘Very good.’

‘Very good,’ Damen repeated. This was his last stop before the battle, and now he’d been here, there was nothing left to do.

He’d put Laurent from his mind as much as he could, using the time since leaving him to pray to all his gods, and methodically prepare himself and his armour. Part of him wondered if Laurent was just afraid they would die, and _that_ was why he’d said what he’d said. Maybe he thought Damen would be a distraction. Damen pushed that thought down. It was one he couldn’t afford to dwell on, not when the survival of his men hinged on his performance.

‘Was there anything else you wanted to consult?’ Nik asked, and it sounded almost teasing. ‘Should I find a twig you can ask for guidance?’

Damen turned to him pleasantly. ‘Sure, you can use the one up your ass.’

Nik grinned and shrugged in acquiescence, before he spoke in Hellenic. ‘The gods are with us today, brother. We will bring honour to our men, to our families, and to the gods who watch over us.’

Damen nodded once, grasping Nik’s offered forearm. ‘I’ll see you after the battle is won.’

Nik nodded back and let go of Damen’s arm, following Makedon out to their troops on the frontline.

Damen turned to Laurent, Lazar and Orlant. The latter two gave the same well wishes as Nik had, before they left to their command. Damen wasn’t expecting much from Laurent, and that was what he got.

Laurent looked like he wanted to say something, as he flicked his eyes over Damen in all his armour. He opened his mouth to speak, clenching his fingers around the bottom edge of the helmet under his arm, then shook his head and turned for the field.

‘Laurent, wait,’ Damen called, going after him and placing a heavy hand on his shoulder to turn him.

Laurent’s face was pained. ‘Damen, I can’t do this, not now.’

‘I want to wish you luck,’ Damen said, grabbing at straws to find something to say, anything that would keep them in this conversation for a few more moments.

‘Thank you,’ Laurent said stiffly. ‘I need to –’

‘I know you’re nervous,’ Damen continued. ‘And I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to, but what I said last night holds true – we’ll be okay.’

‘Damen, I –’

‘Even if I’m not the person you want to see at the end of it, even if it breaks my _heart_ , I want you to know that I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re still standing at the end.’

Laurent looked down, apparently making a decision, which started with his very pointed shrugging off of Damen’s hand. ‘Don’t sacrifice yourself to save me, Damen. I’m not what you want, and I’m not your concern.’

‘Laurent,’ Damen said, desperately needing to correct him. He couldn’t have him go into battle thinking something like that. ‘Wait.’

‘I need to go, Damen,’ Laurent said, pushing past him to head to the field.

‘Laurent!’ Damen called. He didn’t turn around, and Damen was forced to watch him make his way to his troops, as he whispered brokenly to the man who didn’t care, ‘I love you.’

***

It felt like a risky plan.

Damen didn’t like using bait, preferring instead to charge head on, but maybe that was exactly why he’d lost his first battle against Claudius. He’d been reckless, he hadn’t paid attention to how he’d split his troops, he’d assumed he would win.

And Claudius – _surely,_ he would feel overconfident after his absolute slaughter of Damen’s men. Laurent had assured them his uncle was the type to be bolstered by the slightest win. However, he’d also warned them against underestimating him, saying that he would be at least two steps ahead of them, no matter how they planned.

The one advantage they did have was that Claudius didn’t know about Nikandros and his men. They weren’t even sure he knew about Makedon and Laurent’s legion coming to save Damen’s ass, but it was safe to assume he would’ve realised reinforcements would be sent. They knew how many men Claudius had, though, and they were confident in their abilities to win.

It would be a hard battle, and they’d lose men, but it was a small price to pay for what they’d achieve, what they’d save.

Damen’s horse was steady under him as they waited with the rest of the cavalry, high in the ridge that lined their chosen battlefield. Directly across from them, over that expanse of green and brown, were the banks and waters of a lake. To his left, a third of Makedon’s forces were arranged in their lines at the base of the hills. Further back up those hills lay another third. To Damen’s right, Laurent was with other heavy infantry, made of Makedon’s last third of men, combined with what was left of Damen’s legion, and some of the Hellenes.

At the end of the ridge, by the pass that would welcome Claudius and his men in, Lazar and a small section of the cavalry, along with Nikandros and the rest of his men, were waiting. Their job was to close in and attack from the back, herding Claudius’ men into the trap. On three sides they would be barred in by Damen’s combined forces, and the only escape would be the lake. Roman armour wasn’t light, and that would undoubtedly take care of many of Claudius’ men for them.

Damen could feel his men’s nerves when the first of Claudius’ men marched in through the pass, but all that coursed through his body was the overwhelming rage he’d since developed at everything Claudius had done. Never mind that he’d killed his own legatus for control, never mind whatever else he’d done since then – this was the man who had orchestrated the deaths of so many of Damen’s men.

‘Sir.’

Damen looked to his right. A scout. ‘Yes?’

‘From General Nikandros – Claudius has assembled all his men for battle. They’re all here.’

Damen blinked. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, sir, that’s what they said.’

‘Excellent,’ Damen said, even as he counted the units to check they were all in attendance, and sure enough – not a single one out of place. ‘Pass along to the other generals that we proceed as planned.’

The scout nodded and disappeared back into the trees, right as a horn blew in the midst of Claudius’ troops. Damen prayed none of his own men would mistake it for theirs and give away their positions, and thankfully none did.

The front ranks of Claudius’ men changed position, forming up into a wedge, a point designed to break ranks to destroy the enemy’s formation and scatter the troops. They’d anticipated this, and Damen felt the shift in the air as word was passed back – Damen and the cavalry would move as soon as their second trumpet blew. He would attack with the second part of Makedon’s legion, cutting through the field to round on the right flank of Claudius’ troops, the same time as Lazar and Nik were to lead their men from the hills as well.

Laurent and his infantry would be the last reinforcements, and Damen hoped by that point, they would have already gained the upper hand. Or enough of an upper hand that Laurent wouldn’t put himself right into the fray, hopefully hanging back just to command.

Damen knew, however, that was a wish in vain. He’d been itching for it since the moment he’d met up with Damen, especially knowing it was his uncle they were going against. It was probably why he’d gone straight in to fight with Govart, as well.

Laurent was… _wild_ when he started fighting. Damen had seen him practicing drills and he was much better than anyone probably realised. His form was nearly impeccable, except for the times when he got ahead of himself and jumped too far into a fight, then ended up getting himself in trouble. He did, however, have a knack for getting himself out of the sticky situations he landed in, and that was what made him dangerous. Laurent was a quick thinker on his feet, and he knew how to utilise his skills to his every advantage.

He would be difficult to tame and almost impossible to stop when he got onto that battlefield, and while Damen was intrigued by the chance to see him fight for real, he also didn’t want to see him hurt. Or worse, see him get into one of those sticky situations and then be unable to worm himself back _out_.

When Claudius’ second horn blew, and his wedge of soldiers began their advance, Makedon’s men prepared their stance. On the first blast of the trumpet, a volley of pila was launched, and Damen was proud that the majority of them hit their targets, cutting chunks out of Claudius’ advance. Not enough to make an enormous difference, but enough to give a small boost of confidence. On an unseen signal, the second volley flew, and a few more pieces were knocked from Claudius’ formation.

The first clash of soldiers was loud, as bronze armour hit bronze. In the early morning light, the sun bounced off the shiny scales, and from Damen’s position, it was like seeing a shoal of fish underwater. It was almost pretty, if you could ignore the context of murder. The struggle was about to become a melee, however, as a third horn was blown for Claudius’ second lot of men to advance.

Damen started counting down. When Makedon had their trumpet blown next, it would signal the appearance of infantry reinforcements from behind the fight, as well as Damen and the cavalry.

‘Be ready,’ Damen murmured to those around him, hearing the message get passed quickly through his men and their pawing horses.

Claudius’ troops were halfway to the battle when Makedon sounded the trumpet, and they didn’t falter in their steps at all – until they saw the horses coming down the ridge, like the gods were pouring them in a stream from some cosmic water jug.

The soldiers didn’t stop completely, but a decent amount of them broke rank to retreat, something they’d be punished for if they didn’t die. That gave Damen a little thrill, but one he couldn’t enjoy for long, as he and his men got closer to the ranks of Claudius.

Some of the cavalry broke off to engage with the left flank and the front lines directly, while Damen led the rest around to the other side, doing as much damage as they could to the soldiers that tried to escape into the lake. Some made it, and Damen had already said to leave them – they’d either drown or they’d stay there until the battle was over, and then they’d die anyway.

It felt like Claudius was panicking, as three short blasts of the horn had the rest of his troops marching forward, straight into the trap Damen and the generals had set. The fresh reinforcements from their side had the dying men at Damen’s feet smiling as they went down, sure they would win against this half legion and cavalry.

If they’d bothered to really look, they probably would’ve realised the amount of cavalry behind Damen was more than what would accompany just the two thirds of Makedon’s men they’d seen.

The trumpet sounded from Makedon’s sector of the field again, and down the ridge came Nikandros and his men, Lazar with the last of the cavalry, and Laurent with his assortment of heavy infantry.

The smiling stopped after that.

The battle passed in some kind of blur, with Damen’s focus being only the circle of soldiers around him, and the cavalry behind him. His sword was glistening red, a colour splattered across his horse’s front as well, along with the mud tracked high up both their legs.

What had been grass underneath them had been churned into a slick, slippery mix of dirt and sand, and the blood of fallen men, which made a tiny thought linger at the back of Damen’s mind about being able to clean after this was over. While there was something satisfying about picking dried mud from the skin, there was something inherently better about washing it off. It was like, you washed off a whole other person and their experiences in that mud, and you came back from the water completely different.

Damen looked up from stabbing downwards at Claudius’ men for the briefest moment, and when he did, his world narrowed to that single point of golden hair in the sea of mud-covered bronze.

Laurent.

His fighting was off form, arm just flailing around with a sword attached as too many men advanced on him, alone in the field.

Not for long.

Damen spurred his horse into action, slashing out to clear a path and make his way to Laurent. He didn’t care what Laurent had said. He didn’t care if he didn’t love Damen, if he wanted no part of him, because that didn’t change how _Damen_ felt, and he wasn’t the kind to give up on someone. Laurent was more to him, now. He was a friend, a lover – _loved_. He was important. Damen protected things that were important to him, even if they had broken his heart.

He arrived on the scene, screaming at the men for their attention, before he viciously began to cut them down. One – somehow – had a pilum, and was attempting to stab Damen with it, but it was more just an annoyance as Damen was moving too fast for him to needle his way between the scales of his armour.

And just like that, the annoyance was gone.

Damen hadn’t been paying much attention to the pilum holder, more intent on getting rid of the men trying to attack him with their larger, more dangerous swords. The sharp end of the pilum felt like a mosquito compared to those. It was nice not having to deal with it, and Damen tried to be only slightly surprised when he looked and saw Laurent with his dagger in the soldier’s throat.

‘What?’ Laurent asked, pulling it out. ‘You were busy.’

Damen raised an eyebrow. ‘Saving your ass, yes.’

‘I didn’t need to be saved.’

‘You were panicking.’

‘Who says you get to decide if I’m panicking?’

‘You weren’t in control,’ Damen shrugged, looking out over the battlefield. They were in a quiet spot – for now – and far towards the entrance of the plateau, Damen could see Nik’s men holding off soldiers from Claudius that were trying to escape. To his left, there were a great number more men wading into the lake, some up to their chins in water as they waited for the end of the fighting. He couldn’t, however, actually see Claudius. ‘Where’s your uncle?’ Damen asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Laurent said. ‘I haven’t really been looking for him.’

‘We need to find him.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s tried to escape unnoticed.’

‘Nik’s men have cut off the pass. There’s no way he could retreat or disappear into the ridge without someone stopping him.’

Laurent hummed and reached a hand up to Damen, who hauled him onto the back of his horse without a second thought. ‘Well then,’ Laurent said, winding his arms around Damen in a way that was painfully familiar. ‘We better go find him.’

Damen looked back at Laurent over his shoulder, getting the barest smudge of gold in his vision. ‘I thought you didn’t like me anymore.’

‘I never said I didn’t like you.’

‘You said –’

‘I know what I said,’ Laurent interrupted. ‘Claudius. Go.’

Damen sighed and nudged his horse, holding the reins in one hand, and his sword in the other, as he and Laurent fought off the soldiers that came at them. Surely, two generals on one horse would deter most men, but it didn’t seem that way.

Laurent was kicking out left and right, hitting men in the head and sending them toppling into those around them, the skirt of his armour riding up a little with each move. It was all Damen could do to focus on the fighting, instead of remembering the way he’d had his hands on those thighs last night, how he’d had his mouth on them, on what lay between them.

But far across the battlefield, high above the heads of everyone else, the standard of Claudius was still hefted to the sky, like he expected to win, and was surveying the battle from a throne.

‘Do you think he’d be stupid enough to advertise his position?’ Damen asked doubtfully, hearing the _thunk_ of another soldier getting a kick to the face.

‘No,’ Laurent said, leaning around Damen to look where he’d nodded to. ‘I think he’d use it as a decoy.’

Damen hummed, eyeing a thicket of soldiers moving slowly across the field. ‘You think he’d keep a guard around himself?’

‘Would you?’

‘Does it look like I’m surrounded by a guard?’

‘No. Remember that you and he are opposites, Damen.’

Damen watched them a moment longer, and briefly – the head of Claudius appeared. Probably still attached to a body, unfortunately. ‘Hold on,’ Damen said, before spurring his horse to action again, showing no prejudice to who was trampled beneath them. His target was clear, and no one was standing in the way of it.

Some of Nik’s men had heard Damen’s incoming and caught on to what was happening, making their way from their pockets of fighting to engage the guard around Claudius.

The guard was sizeable, somewhere around thirty men, but they were evidently handpicked to protect their traitor of a legatus. They easily began to dispatch men under Damen’s command as they struggled to make a way through to the ridge, but as more people caught on to what was happening, the harder it was for them to move.

As Damen and Laurent arrived, the fight became much more even. They were fighting side by side and were a force to be reckoned with, treating the fight like a dance, almost elegant in their movements around each other. Part of Damen’s mind wondered why, when they had never fought together, never really even practiced together. They had, however, been very close. Intimate. They knew each other.

Damen tucked that away as a convincing argument they should maybe not stop fucking, if Laurent was open to the suggestion.

‘Claudius!’ Laurent roared, his chest heaving as he cut down another man. ‘Stop running and face me!’

Claudius turned, in such a calm manner, it was like he didn’t realise there was a battle going on around him. His armour was pristine, untouched and unmarred, still shining beatifically in the sun. ‘My quarrel isn’t with you, nephew.’

‘Your quarrel is with anyone trying to stop you from reaching Rome, and that’s me.’

‘Why?’ Claudius asked. ‘Why not join me instead?’

Laurent spat on the ground between them. He looked more furious than Damen had ever seen him. With the dirt that covered him, almost head to toe, he was everything his uncle wasn’t. There were streaks of blood across his face, his hair was clumped with mud, and his armour was dull with grime – he’d long since abandoned his helm. He’d been fighting hard, and he’d been winning. Damen couldn’t see a single major injury, only a few cuts above his gauntlets, and one on his leg, dripping steadily onto his greaves.

A slow smile crept over Claudius’ face at Laurent’s blatant refusal. ‘I always liked you, Laurent.’

‘Get fucked,’ Laurent snarled.

‘And you, Damianos,’ Claudius tutted. ‘Didn’t learn your lesson the first time, I see.’

‘You killed my men,’ Damen said levelly. ‘Now, I’m going to kill you.’

‘A bold assumption. I have a few people with me, you see.’

‘And we’ll kill them as well.’

‘We?’ Claudius asked, picking up just the one word to focus on. ‘You and Laurent? Made a new friend, have you?’

Damen didn’t like the way Claudius was looking at him now, and stepped half in front of Laurent out of some kind of reflex from deep in his muscle memory. ‘You don’t know anything.’

‘Did he scream?’ Claudius asked, leaning forward, like he was telling a secret. ‘Or did he moan like a whore when you fucked him?’

Damen ground his teeth, his hand tightening around his sword. He knew Claudius was trying to goad him into something here. He couldn’t let his feelings ruin this, but he also couldn’t let it go unpunished.

‘Don’t,’ Laurent murmured, and the gentle pressure of his hand appeared on the small of Damen’s back. ‘Don’t.’

‘Laurent, he –’

‘I know,’ Laurent replied.

Claudius was watching them with interest, analysing the way Laurent’s quiet words affected him. ‘Oh, he has you, doesn’t he?’

‘On me,’ Laurent said, twisting his head behind Damen’s neck, the words only for them to share. ‘You take right, I take left. Leave Claudius to me.’

‘Laurent –’

‘Now.’

Despite Damen’s better judgement, he did as Laurent said, slashing out with his sword and catching three of Claudius’ remaining guard unaware. They dropped like flies, and Damen kept going, getting almost to Claudius, when the man himself took out his sword and started to use it.

His blade caught Damen’s, and in the smallest moment it took for Damen to pull it away, Claudius slipped his dagger from the sheath at his side and stabbed it deep into Damen’s thigh.

Damen blinked in confusion and looked down, before Claudius pulled it out and tried to stalk towards Laurent.

He wasn’t going to let him get away, so despite the wet heat he could feel beginning to pour down his leg into his greaves, Damen swung out with his sword, catching Claudius on the back of his shoulder.

Claudius turned back, surprised Damen was still fighting. ‘Really?’ he asked. ‘You want me to finish you like I finished your men?’

‘You didn’t touch my men,’ Damen said, flicking his eyes to Laurent. ‘And you won’t touch him.’

Claudius laughed, twirling his sword around lazily. ‘You would sacrifice yourself for my hard-hearted nephew? He must truly have you under his thumb for that.’

‘It doesn’t matter how Laurent feels about me. He’s the brother of my best friend, and he’s getting back to Rome if it’s the last thing I achieve.’

‘It might be.’ Claudius sighed, turning his full attention back to Damen. ‘A pity to kill one with such a talent for war.’

Damen groaned. ‘Would you stop talking?’

Claudius shrugged and began to fight again, lashing out at Damen with what he clearly thought to be an impressive attack. His smile turned into a grimace as Damen parried back, before catching his wrist and twisting it out. Claudius dropped his sword with a hiss, then stumbled back as Damen headbutted him.

Claudius yanked a sword from the hand of one of his guard, getting into stance as Damen approached.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Damen was done with listening to him talk, and swung straight for Claudius’ neck, growling when he ducked, and having to quickly bring his sword back up to avoid a blade to his own throat.

They parried back and forth for a little, and Damen wasn’t sure whether or not he truly had the upper hand. He didn’t want to think he did and get too comfortable, even though all he really wanted to do was play dirty and cut Claudius off at the knees. It would’ve been a foul move, but that didn’t mean Damen couldn’t still slice him just a little. Claudius had maintained his impeccable image, and it was time to change that.

Damen ducked under an attack from Claudius, and pushed his sword to the side, catching him behind the knees. They weren’t deep cuts, but they were bloody enough to distract for a moment, as Damen flicked his sword up to catch a bare patch of skin at Claudius’ elbow. The scratch there added to his apparent confusion, and Damen finally felt able to think he had a high chance of finishing Claudius off for good.

But that was around when things started going bad.

He’d ignored the wound on his leg. _In_ his leg. His skin was now coated with a deep, wine red, and when he looked down at it, he felt… strange. He blinked a few times to try and clear his mind, but it didn’t help, and his knees faltered, sending him staggering a few steps forward.

Ah, yes – blood loss. Damen remembered exactly three things from right before he blacked out.

First, when Damen touched his leg, it was sticky with thick, clotting blood, and it had him wondering how long he’d been bleeding that badly for.

Second, he was caught by a pair of Hellenes, who quickly dragged him to the medics at the foot of the ranges. He thought one might’ve been Pallas, but he wasn’t sure.

And last, the scream of his name, which registered somewhere in the back of his mind as he looked over his shoulder to a blurred view of Laurent swinging his sword at Claudius.

***

Laurent had watched Damen and Claudius fight, and the only thing going through his mind was a feeling of sheer panic, one he couldn’t outwardly show, or he’d risk… probably everything. If Damen caught on, he’d make reckless moves and get himself killed, all because he didn’t want Laurent to have to fight his own uncle.

Laurent didn’t care so much that it was his uncle. He’d been fighting him for a long time, and he would undoubtedly continue until the day one of them died. He hoped today was that day. He didn’t want to have to take Claudius as a prisoner and bring him back to Rome. He didn’t want to deal with that journey, all the while pretending to be amicable.

He wouldn’t have minded being the one to kill Claudius, in fact, and part of him was a little glad that Damen got stabbed in the thigh like that. It meant he probably wouldn’t get to finish the fight, and Laurent would get to step in. He’d forgotten that Damen getting stabbed meant he could die, and that was something that came all too swiftly to mind as he collapsed into the arms of Nikandros and one of his close guards, Pallas.

‘Damen!’ he yelled, watching from a small distance as Damen was quickly carried away to the medics.

‘Oh no,’ Claudius said dramatically. ‘Do you think he’ll die?’

Laurent’s entire world shrank to the bare side of his uncle’s throat, as he lifted his sword and swung it down into the hard metal of his ribs with a roar. He didn’t say anything, not wanting to have his tongue slip and give Claudius more leverage than he already had.

He hadn’t been engaged in fighting while Claudius and Damen were going at each other, and that was his biggest advantage against his tiring uncle. He was faster, he was a better fighter, and he was bloodthirsty. The thought that Claudius might have just killed Damen and given him a slow, dishonourable death, was almost more than Laurent could handle.

But he was very good at compartmentalising.

‘Do you mean to kill me, nephew?’ Claudius asked, blocking yet another blow from Laurent.

Laurent pushed Claudius back into his guard. ‘Yes,’ he said simply.

‘You’re certainly trying to take your time,’ Claudius said, launching three blows in a simple combination that Laurent predicted and parried easily.

‘I thought you might like to entertain the illusion you could beat me.’

‘I _can_ beat you.’

Laurent made an uneasy noise and let out a breath. ‘If that’s what you want to think.’

‘It’s true,’ Claudius said, grinding his blade down the length of Laurent’s to come close to his face, close enough for the combination of his reeking breath and sweat to wash over Laurent’s unfortunate senses. ‘I can beat you.’

Laurent kept his eyes on his uncle’s as he slipped his dagger from his side. ‘But you can’t,’ he said, stabbing it into the side of his uncle’s throat.

Claudius’ eyes widened in shock, his grip going lax on his sword as he dropped it into the mud at their feet. He tried to talk, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a gurgle and bubbling blood.

Instead of pulling the dagger out, Laurent drew it forward, slicing through everything – every tendon and muscle that stood between his blade and freedom. When it was done, and his uncle was crumpled at his feet, Laurent knelt to wipe the blood and viscera from his knife into the rich fabric of his uncle’s tunic.

He stood and faced the men around him. ‘The battle stops,’ he said, leaving no room for argument. ‘Take the rest as prisoners.’

‘What do you want us to do with him?’ asked one of Makedon’s men.

Laurent looked back at his uncle, his face tipped to the side and neck dribbling blood into the mud. ‘Take his head.’


	10. In Causā Amor Prīmum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from [here](http://https://didoofcarthage.tumblr.com/post/189345103754/incr%C4%93dibile-est-quant%C5%8D-d%C4%93s%C4%ABderi%C5%8D-tu%C4%AB-tenear-in)

‘Why do we always end up like this?’

Damen looked across to the door, a smile spreading across his face when he saw Nik standing there. ‘You’d think we’d be better at not getting ourselves injured, huh?’

‘You were looking pretty bad for a while there,’ Nik said, taking a more serious tone as he came to sit at Damen’s side. ‘We weren’t sure you were going to live.’

‘I’m pretty tough,’ Damen shrugged, glancing down to the bandages that swathed his leg. ‘How’s…’

‘Laurent?’

‘Am I allowed to ask?’

Nik shrugged. ‘He’s not injured, if that’s what you mean. A few cuts, but I’m fairly certain you knew that before he did.’

Damen was quiet for a moment. It felt like he’d known Nik for years, the way he seemed able to get into Damen’s head. ‘Is he okay?’

‘He’s fine.’

‘He hasn’t been to see me.’

Nik hummed. ‘Something happened with you two, didn’t it? Am I allowed to ask?’

‘I don’t think I want to talk about it,’ Damen admitted. He was beginning to think maybe Laurent had been serious when he… did whatever he did. Finished things between them. Damen wanted to focus on healing his leg before he touched that hurt.

‘I know you spent the night with him,’ Nik said, continuing at the confused look his revelation pulled onto Damen’s face. ‘I went to your tent to find you, and you weren’t there. I put it together.’

Damen sighed and shook his head, picking at the edge of the bandages and fraying the material a little. ‘What else do you think you know?’

‘I’m guessing something happened between you and now you’re not talking?’ Nik raised an eyebrow. ‘Pretty obvious as well.’

‘He…’ Damen took a breath, letting it out in a slow exhale. ‘He said he didn’t want me.’

‘And you believed him?’

Damen looked up at Nik from his leg. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean,’ Nik said. ‘Was he any good?’

Damen groaned. ‘Yes.’

‘Worth fighting for?’

‘Yes,’ Damen said quietly. ‘But that’s not up to me. I’m not going to push him; he knows where I stand.’

‘No, he knows where _he_ _thinks_ you stand,’ Nik said, tapping Damen’s uninjured leg. ‘I have things to attend to. You should talk to Laurent.’

‘Why is that always the advice you give me?’

‘Because it’s always the advice you need,’ Nik grinned. ‘I’m praying for your swift recovery.’

‘Thank you,’ Damen said, poking his leg a little. ‘I’m getting bored of being on bed rest.’

‘And we’re getting bored of waiting for you to heal.’

‘Great, thanks. You can just go ahead without me then, I guess.’

‘Really?’

Damen narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re a horrible friend, get out of my tent.’

Nik laughed and gave a little bow. ‘Not like you could make me if I didn’t.’

‘I might be on bed rest, but my arms still work and there are plenty of things within my reach that I could throw at you.’

Nik looked contemplative for a moment, eyeing up the cups and water next to Damen’s bed. ‘On second thought, I really should go do those things.’

‘Probably,’ Damen agreed.

***

He hadn’t been to see Damen. Laurent had been spending a good part of each day pacing either in his tent or around the camp, each time coming closer and closer to Damen, but he couldn’t bring himself to go inside. He didn’t want to talk to him, because the second he did, everything he was thinking would just tumble from his mouth.

He’d never recover from finding out he was right, in the single instance where he didn’t want to be. Damen had been looking after him out of allegiance to Auguste. Damen would drop him like a hot coal the second they got back to Rome. Laurent wanted to spend a little more time pretending he wouldn’t, before they got back to Rome and he had to face facts.

Nikandros, Laurent knew, had been to see him several times. Laurent had seen him coming from Damen’s tent, and he wondered if he’d been finishing what they’d started the day of Govart’s uprising **.**

Damen had said that wasn’t a possibility, that they’d never do that, but Laurent begged to differ. Nikandros was giving him _looks_ when he walked past, and Laurent couldn’t tell if they were pitying or smug. He didn’t like being the target of either.

Laurent only considered actually entering the tent when he received an outside opinion, albeit an unwanted outside opinion. From Lazar.

‘Honestly,’ he said, bursting through into Laurent’s tent, catching him pacing yet again. ‘Please go see Damen. Just go and talk to him so you can stop with this.’

‘Stop what?’ Laurent asked, cutting into the apple he was holding with a small, very sharp, knife. ‘Eating my fruit?’

‘ _Pacing_ ,’ Lazar said, exasperated. ‘Damen won’t stop whining that you haven’t been to see him, and it’s driving us all insane. He’s _this close –_ ’ Lazar held up his thumb and forefinger, the pads touching, ‘– from coming to find you himself.’

Laurent rolled his eyes. ‘He can’t be that bad.’

‘Paschal says he needs to rest at least another few days and has half a mind to strap him to the bed, just so he won’t come to talk to you.’

Laurent frowned. ‘Really?’

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Lazar said. ‘Just – go to him? Please? If I have to listen to him talk _at length_ about how you haven’t seen him in a week –’

‘Nine days.’

‘See?’ Lazar cried. ‘Nine days! You know exactly how long it’s been as well! Go talk to Damen!’

Laurent opened his mouth to speak, and made to gesture with his knife, a piece of apple still on the end of it. He shut his mouth again. ‘Fine,’ he decided.

‘Good!’ Lazar waved grandly to the door. ‘Let’s go.’

‘What?’

‘If I need to accompany you to your beloved’s tent to make sure you get there, then that’s what I’m going to do,’ Lazar said. ‘My sanity is worth more than your pride.’

‘Oh, let’s not go that far,’ Laurent muttered, taking the apple off his knife with his teeth and chewing slowly. It was loud enough that he didn’t have to listen to Lazar’s grumblings on the way to Damen’s tent, and gave him the moment of respite he so desperately needed from being told off by _Lazar_.

‘We’re here,’ Lazar announced. ‘Get in the tent.’

‘What?’

‘I’m not leaving until you’re in the tent.’

‘Lazar?’ Damen asked from inside. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I brought a gift for you,’ Lazar said, pulling open the door. ‘Get in,’ he hissed to Laurent. ‘Or I’m not leaving.’

Laurent scowled at him, but went into the tent, still holding half of his apple and the knife. ‘You can go now, thank you.’

‘No. I’m staying until –’

‘Lazar, you forget I’m holding a knife here,’ Laurent warned.

Lazar grimaced, having witnessed Laurent use a knife on his uncle. ‘I’ll be off. Good talk.’

Laurent turned to the bed, where Damen was sitting, looking slightly startled at the visitor thrust so unceremoniously into his midst. ‘Hello,’ he said awkwardly.

Damen blinked at him, pulling the blankets on his bed up his chest a bit. It seemed kind of moot, given the amount of time he and Laurent had spent together while naked. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘What… brings you here?’

‘Lazar,’ Laurent took a slice of his apple and went to sit in the chair positioned next to his bed. ‘Apparently you’ve been whining to people that I haven’t come to see you.’

Damen blushed and looked down to his bed. ‘I wouldn’t call it whining.’

‘Why did you want to see me?’

‘Straight to it, huh?’ Damen sighed. ‘I don’t like how we ended things.’

‘How I ended things, you mean.’

Damen nodded, taking the apple and knife from Laurent to cut himself a piece. Laurent let him. ‘I just need to know why.’

‘Why?’ Laurent repeated. He thought it was obvious, and it was cruel of Damen to make him say it out loud.

‘And then I’ll leave you alone, as much as I can, given how you’re related to my best friend.’

Laurent sighed, watching Damen eat his apple. ‘I’m not what you want, Damen.’

‘You don’t get to decide that.’

‘Fine, I’m not what you _should_ want,’ Laurent said, taking back the apple. It was his snack, and he was hungry. He also just needed something to occupy his hands. ‘You should get married and have children, not spend your life pining after me when all I can offer you is scandal.’

Damen balked, frowning as he watched Laurent twist the knife into the top of the apple around the stem. ‘Is that what you think?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

Laurent looked up. ‘Because it’s true.’

‘Laurent…’ Damen trailed off and scooted up the bed with a small wince, reaching out to take one of his hands. ‘I don’t care about any of that.’

‘You don’t want children?’ Laurent asked doubtfully. ‘A family of your own?’

‘Not as much as I want you. I can adopt children, or have illegitimate ones then deal with the legal stuff later. There’s only one of you, and I don’t think…’

‘Don’t think what?’

‘I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone as much as you.’

Laurent bit his lip, twisting his fingers into Damen’s somewhat reluctantly. ‘You love me,’ he said softly.

‘Yes,’ Damen said. ‘I do.’

‘They’ll make you marry eventually. You’re a legatus, you should have been married already.’

‘I’m not as good of a match as you seem to think. As you’ve so kindly pointed out, I may be Roman, but my heart beats for Hellas,’ Damen tilted Laurent’s chin up to make him look at him. ‘It beats for you.’

‘Damen, I –’

‘If you’re going to say something to try and contradict me again, I’m going to be very upset, Laurent.’

‘No,’ Laurent smiled. ‘I love you.’

Damen blinked, a smile appearing on his face, too. ‘Oh.’

***

The journey back to Rome felt shorter than it was. After Damen had been given the all clear by Paschal to travel, they had started back, many of the men eager to return to their families, after the tiring campaign of the last few months.

They were being accompanied by Nik and his men, too, the vast majority of whom hadn’t been to Rome before. Nik was among them and asked questions about it at night – the people, the food, the buildings. He was interested in the religion, particularly, and how the rituals differed from his own. Every time Damen thought he’d finally finished explaining everything, Nik would ask something else, and Damen would have to pull from his memory information he didn’t know he remembered.

After Nik retired for the night, and bed became the primary objective, Damen and Laurent now shared just one tent. It was kind of a joke to them, given how on the first night Laurent had been in his camp, Damen had offered him his tent, and now he had it. They weren’t yet trying to beat those seven hours, now that they were on the same page, with Damen having finally convinced Laurent he wasn’t going to drop him the moment they returned to Rome – _that_ was when they intended to. But they weren’t going to try to beat seven hours, they _were_ going to beat it.

It was highly likely they would, too, given the amount of time they spent in bed on rest days. They still had duties to tend to in the camp, though, so they couldn’t spend entire days naked and together, but they liked to think of it as practice rounds.

They were a few days out from Rome, taking a final rest day before the last push through, when Damen suggested it.

‘I’ve had a thought,’ he said, running a hand over Laurent’s bare thigh, his leg hitched over Damen’s hip as they lay side by side on their bed.

‘Mm?’ Laurent asked, combing his fingers through Damen’s hair. ‘Did it hurt?’

‘You’re so mean to me,’ Damen said, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose, earning a smile for it. ‘No, it didn’t. Thank you for the concern.’

Laurent chuckled. ‘What is it?’

‘I know we can’t do it legally, but…’ Damen paused in moving his hand, making Laurent open his eyes in concern to look up to him.

‘What?’

‘Would you marry me?’

Laurent blinked, a startled laugh coming from his mouth. ‘Marry you?’

‘Yes,’ Damen confirmed. ‘Not… I mean – the ritual is… you know, but –’

‘Yes.’

Damen stopped, a half-formed word still on his lips. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ Laurent said. ‘You said we can’t do it by law, but there’s still the ritual of it. I’m sure some parts of that we could skip as well.’

‘Like?’

‘Well, I’ve never had a dream of being taken to your villa on a cart in the middle of the night, while people sing and dance around me to bring me luck with falling pregnant, for example.’

Damen hummed. ‘I think you’d look very nice in a veil, though.’

‘Maybe I’ll get one then, just for you.’

‘How thoughtful.’ Damen leaned in to kiss him deeply, as the enormity of the situation hit him. ‘On second thought,’ he said, breaking away. ‘Maybe not.’

‘Excuse me?’ Laurent drew back. ‘You just proposed marriage to me, and you’re trying to take it back?’

‘I don’t want to tell Auguste I’m fucking his little brother.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Laurent said flatly. ‘I’m fairly sure even my brother can work that one out for himself.’

‘Great, so you can just move into my villa, and we’ll go from there?’

‘Oh no,’ Laurent corrected him. ‘No, no. You still need to tell him _why_.’

Damen whined, pushing his face into the pillow between them. Maybe he could suffocate himself. He wouldn’t have to face Auguste if he was dead. ‘He’s going to kill me.’

Laurent laughed and kissed his cheek. ‘But I’m worth it, right?’

Damen turned his face out of the pillow, to Laurent in front of him. The sun was coming through the fabric of the tent, casting everything in gold, and doing that thing to Laurent that made Damen convinced he was in love with someone more-than-human. ‘Gods help me,’ he murmured. ‘You are.’

***

There was no triumph when they returned to Rome. Having beaten a fellow Roman, they didn’t want one, even if it was Claudius, and despite that they were so close to qualifying for one. There was nothing to really be celebrated, except the avoidance of Rome becoming a battleground.

Upon reaching the city, they camped one last night on the outskirts in the Campus Martius for the lustration and suovetaurilia to purify the camp. It was spent much the same as every other night had been on the way back. There was only one difference – the camp had an air about it of being settled. Rome, for many of the men, was home. Their families were either here or nearby and being so close seemed to have made everyone much calmer.

The next morning, Damen and Laurent packed their things, and headed into Rome. They had things to arrange and see to, namely explaining everything to the senate. A messenger had been dispatched immediately after the battle had come to an end, with Claudius’ head in a sack and a message from Laurent simply saying _it’s done._ That would be a relatively simple task, though. The senate had given Damen permission through Auguste to use whatever force necessary, and while they probably would’ve preferred Claudius to remain intact, Damen doubted whether they truly cared that he died in a battle.

What Damen _wasn’t_ looking forward to was the conversation he needed to have with Auguste. He took his time getting his things in order at his villa, organising a feast to be held in the coming days, and everything to be cleaned and tidied. He even went to the senate – a long and boring affair – before deciding he finally had to face his best friend with his news.

The door to Auguste and Laurent’s home was opened by a servant, who directed Damen to one of the small rooms off the courtyard to wait for Auguste. Damen paced it nervously for the few moments it took him to arrive, a grin splitting Auguste’s face at the sight of his friend.

‘Damen!’ Auguste greeted, pulling him into a tight embrace. ‘You killed my uncle!’

‘I did,’ Damen replied, slapping him on the back. Why had he been worried? This was Auguste, his friend. ‘Wait, no. I didn’t.’

‘You didn’t?’

‘Laurent did.’

‘Laurent did?’

‘He didn’t tell you?’

‘I haven’t talked to him much since he got back,’ Auguste raised an eyebrow. ‘I think he’s avoiding me.’

Damen laughed nervously. ‘I’m sure he’s not. Maybe he just has other things on his mind.’

‘Oh?’ Auguste asked, taking a seat as a different servant arrived with wine and cups. ‘You’ve spent the last several months with him, what do you think is on his mind?’

Damen blew out a breath, shaking his head. _Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it._ ‘No idea.’

Auguste narrowed his eyes as he sipped his wine, watching Damen do the same. ‘You’re lying to me.’

‘I’m not!’

‘You are. We grew up together, so I know you very well, Damianos.’

Damen looked up from his wine and saw Laurent standing in a corner across the courtyard. He was trying not to laugh, and from the hand over his mouth, Damen would say it wasn’t going well. ‘I might be.’

‘No, you _are_ ,’ Auguste corrected. ‘What is it? What’s on my brother’s mind?’

Damen drained the wine from his cup and set it on his knee with a contemplative hum. ‘Probably me.’

‘You?’ Auguste blinked. ‘Why is my brother thinking about you?’

Damen was silent as he reached for the jug to take more wine, and apparently that silence was very telling.

‘Damianos,’ Auguste said slowly. ‘Why is my brother thinking about you?’

‘Judging by your tone, I think you know,’ Damen grimaced, taking another gulp of wine. ‘Are you going to make me say it?’

‘No, but I’d really like to hear you admit that you fucked my brother.’

Damen cleared his throat, which was apparently the wrong response, because Auguste turned very red, throwing his hands up with a scream.

‘Damen!’ Auguste yelled. ‘What the fuck?’

‘Okay, look,’ Damen said, putting his cup on the table between their chairs. ‘I wasn’t going to, but –’

‘But what?’ Auguste interrupted. ‘The gods struck you down with a curse only able to be lifted by _fucking_ my little brother?’

Damen could feel himself going equally as red as Auguste and tried his best to fight it down. If this was how he was reacting to _that_ news, he didn’t want to have to drop the rest on him. ‘Auguste, please calm down.’

‘Calm down?’ Auguste asked, laughing a little hysterically. ‘Calm down? Do you know what you’ve done?’

‘Auguste –’

‘Did you fuck him, or did you _fuck_ him in the way you usually fuck men?’

‘Yes,’ Damen admitted. ‘I did.’

‘Once?’ Auguste pressed. ‘Or more than once?’

‘More than once.’

Auguste took a deep breath and settled back in his chair. ‘You’ve ruined my brother. His _reputation_ – he’ll never… There are so many things you’ve taken from him, Damen.’

Damen frowned. ‘Why are you acting like this is just my fault? Do you think I pressured him into it?’

‘Did you?’

‘No!’ Damen said, outraged at the mere suggestion. ‘You think I could ever do that? You think I would?’

‘I don’t know anymore, Damen!’

‘Auguste,’ Damen rubbed his eyes. It had been a long day, he was tired, and he was beginning to think maybe just getting it over with would be easier than Auguste accusing him of all these things. ‘Laurent doesn’t want a wife –’

‘Oh, so now you’re making decisions for him as well, are you?’

‘Would you be quiet?’ Damen snapped. ‘He told me, okay? He doesn’t want a wife. I didn’t push him into anything, and he was the one who approached me. I – _nothing_ was going to happen, but campaigns are long, and lonely –’

‘So go fuck someone who’s _not_ my brother!’ Auguste said. ‘Did that occur to you?’

‘Auguste –’

‘Damen, I don’t _understand_ –’

‘I’m going to marry him, Auguste.’

Auguste snapped his mouth shut and drew back, eyes wide in surprise. ‘You’re what?’

‘It’s not just about _fucking_ ,’ Damen said softly, ‘for either of us.’

‘You –’

‘I love Laurent,’ Damen shrugged helplessly. ‘I’m not asking for your permission to marry him; he’s a man, and he’ll do as he pleases. I’m also not asking for your blessing, because I’m doing it either way, but I know it would mean a lot to him.’

Auguste leaned into his chair and was quiet for long enough that Damen stood, feeling like he’d been dismissed. ‘Okay,’ Auguste said, as Damen turned to leave.

Damen looked back to him. ‘Okay, what?’

‘I always thought he had feelings for you, but I never expected them to be mutual, so if you truly love my brother and want to be with him, then you have my blessing,’ Auguste stood, straightening his toga a bit. ‘I’d rather admit defeat to you than Laurent.’

Damen smiled. ‘So would I.’

‘Is that why he’s been in his rooms packing everything into chests?’ Auguste asked suspiciously.

‘I suppose so.’

Auguste hummed. ‘I’m not giving you a dowry for him. You get him for free or not at all.’

Damen laughed, looking to the corner of the courtyard where Laurent was still standing, leaning against a column. ‘I’d take him either way.’

Auguste turned to where Damen was looking and let out a deep sigh. ‘ _You_.’

Laurent pushed off the pillar, approaching them and coming to stand beside Damen. ‘Did you have anything else to say?’

Auguste looked between them slowly, then rolled his eyes. ‘You two have no idea what you’ve done, or what you’re doing by entering into this.’

‘Why don’t you tell us?’

‘You – because I _know_ Damen – when you…’ Auguste grimaced. ‘When he…’

A lazy grin spread over Laurent’s face. ‘When he fucks me,’ Laurent said blithely. ‘Yes.’

Auguste made a noise. ‘He’s degrading you as a man, you know that, right? You know how Rome will see you when you enter the senate?’

‘I don’t think the senators will judge me, seeing as I’ve done the same to several of them,’ Laurent shrugged. ‘Besides, have you ever been on the end of a cock, Auguste?’

‘No, I –’

‘You really should,’ Laurent interrupted. ‘Damen’s made a friend who I’m sure would be happy to oblige.’

‘You want _me_ to – to what? Present like a whore?’

‘You could, it’s very freeing, but it’s entirely up to you.’

Auguste spluttered, making Laurent laugh. ‘I’m kidding, but seriously. You should meet Damen’s friend.’

‘Nikandros?’ Damen asked.

‘Nikandros,’ Laurent agreed.

Damen nodded. ‘He’d fuck you and tell no one.’

For the barest moment, Auguste looked intrigued, before he shook it off. ‘No. No. Thank you, no.’

‘He’ll be at our… feast,’ Damen glanced sideways at Laurent. ‘Wedding feast?’

Laurent shrugged. ‘We’re not really doing too much of the ceremony, are we? I’m just moving in, and then we’re having dinner.’

‘The best way to do a wedding.’

‘Exactly.’

‘You’re actually serious about this?’ Auguste asked, looking between them. ‘You’re going to get married, you’re going to live together, and one of you will be on campaign most of the year while the other is in the senate?’

‘I don’t think I want to go into the senate yet,’ Laurent said. ‘I think there’s more Damen could teach me about combat and the art of war.’

‘I’m sure that’s exactly why you want to go live in a tent with him for months on end,’ Auguste said drily. ‘But I don’t think anyone will have a problem with it.’

‘Good, because I’m deadly and persuasive,’ Laurent said cheerfully, going up to his toes to peck Damen’s cheek. ‘I need to get back to packing. I’ll see you later.’

Damen nodded, watching him go. ‘What?’ he asked, turning back to see Auguste giving him a knowing smile.

‘You fucked my brother, and now you’re marrying him,’ Auguste shook his head. ‘Even if he did like you to begin with, you must have a magic cock.’

‘Ah,’ Damen said, slapping Auguste’s shoulder. ‘But we knew I did.’

‘Yes,’ Auguste sighed. ‘I suppose we did.’

***

The streets were relatively quiet as Laurent and Damen loaded chests onto a cart. Damen didn’t live a huge distance from Auguste’s house, but far enough that it would be much faster to transport them like this, instead of carrying them and needing to pause every couple of minutes.

‘Are you ready?’ Damen asked quietly. ‘If you change your mind, I’m making you load everything again yourself.’

Laurent laughed. ‘I’m ready. I won’t miss Auguste as much as you think I will.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ Damen said. ‘I’ll meet you there?’

Laurent nodded, kissing him quickly, before climbing onto the cart beside the driver. ‘See you soon.’

Damen smiled and went ahead of the cart, cutting through side streets to reach the house before Laurent. They didn’t really need to make a big deal out of this. They were just moving some things – mostly clothes – to Damen’s house, but it felt… bigger. It felt like more, which, he supposed, it was. He waited at the entrance to his house, hearing the wheels rumble over the street as it drew closer, helped unload everything again when it arrived, and that was it. Tomorrow they would hold their feast, and they would be married.

Laurent had been to his house before on visits with Auguste, or on the rare occasion he came by himself to drop something off (also from Auguste). As he walked through the halls, following Damen and his servants to the main bedchamber, he looked around, appearing to take everything in anew, now that it was also his. Damen was sure he’d eventually take the time to walk through the house, cataloguing every little thing, but now wasn’t that time.

‘So,’ Laurent said, going to sit on the end of Damen’s bed – _their_ bed – as the last of the servants left, shutting the door quietly themselves. ‘Now you have me here, what are you going to do with me?’

Damen tapped his chin thoughtfully, crossing the distance between them slowly. ‘I think I have an idea.’

‘Oh?’ Laurent asked, as Damen knelt between his legs. He tilted Damen’s head up with the gentlest touch of a finger, leaning down to brush their lips together. ‘Tell me.’

‘I think,’ Damen put his hands over Laurent’s clothed thighs. ‘We’re going to unpack your chests.’

Laurent blinked, then frowned, taking his finger from Damen’s chin. ‘You’re not serious,’ he said flatly.

‘Laurent, I’m going to stub all my toes walking around here if we don’t.’

Laurent groaned, looking to the chests scattered around the room. They probably did need to organise them. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘But I’m going to complain the entire time.’

‘I wouldn’t expect anything less.’

***

Damen and Laurent had a few things to do before their guests arrived for the feast later in the day. First, they had to find an augur. They were pretty sure their marriage would be a good one, but they wanted the opinion of some chickens just to make sure.

‘You know they’re just chickens, right?’ Laurent said, as they made their way through Rome towards the Campus Martius. The augur from their campaign against Claudius was still there, and that made him the closest one either Damen or Laurent could think of.

‘Yes,’ Damen said. ‘I know they’re chickens.’

‘What are you going to do if the chickens think it’s a bad idea?’

‘Then obviously I’m going to kick you out of my house.’

‘No, no,’ Laurent said, batting his eyelashes. ‘You’ll kick me out of _our_ house.’

‘Fine, I’ll kick you out of _our_ house,’ Damen shrugged.

‘Wait, really?’

‘No, obviously not,’ Damen said, lightly grazing his fingers against the back of Laurent’s wrist. ‘They’re just chickens. I think we know better than them.’

Laurent tilted his head curiously. ‘This is a change from the chicken-obeying Damen I know and love.’

‘This Damen has been considering a lot of things lately,’ Damen muttered. ‘But now’s not the time nor place to discuss it.’

Laurent nodded, stepping behind him as they weaved through a marketplace. They didn’t talk again until they were crossing the Campus Martius and approaching the borders of the camp.

‘Legatus Damianos!’ Pallas greeted brightly. ‘You’re at the camp.’

‘I am,’ Damen smiled. ‘We’re here to see the augur.’

Pallas nodded. ‘He’s somewhere… down there, I think.’

‘We’ll find him,’ Damen said, as he and Laurent passed into the camp. It was emptier than they were used to, with most of the men in Rome for the day, and probably the night, too. They found the augur easily, as the rows of tents were in the usual position to when they were further afield on campaign.

The augur startled as Damen approached, holding out a bucket of oats, ready to feed the birds. ‘Sir – _sirs_ , I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,’ he stuttered. ‘Did – what can I help you with?’

‘We need some auspices,’ Damen said, looking sideways at Laurent. ‘Nuptial auspices.’

The augur’s face broke into a grin. ‘Absolutely. One moment.’ He put the bucket down and headed into his tent, bringing out a slightly battered honeycake. ‘Give them half each, I suppose.’

‘You suppose?’

‘I’ve never done wedding auspices before.’

‘Neither have we,’ Damen said, holding the cake to Laurent. They split it in half, then tossed it in for the chickens. They were ravenous.

‘A good sign if ever I saw one,’ the augur said, nodding to the chickens as they pecked at the cake.

Laurent hummed. ‘They are just chickens, though.’

‘Are you trying to curse our union?’ Damen asked, elbowing him gently. ‘You could just say you don’t want to marry me.’

‘Maybe I don’t, maybe I just want to leave my brother’s house.’

The augur looked between them in confusion. ‘You… don’t –’

‘He’s joking,’ Damen said. ‘Ignore him.’

‘Oh – _oh_ ,’ the augur winked. ‘I understand. Congratulations, may the gods watch over you both and smile.’

Damen flung an arm around Laurent, kissing the top of his head as they turned to leave again. ‘I feel like they already have.’

‘You’re ridiculous,’ Laurent said, ducking out from under his arm with a small smile on his face anyway. ‘So, what now? We just wait for the feast?’

‘I have something I want to do. Something I want to get.’

‘Like?’

‘It’s a surprise.’

‘So it’s for me?’

‘Maybe.’

Laurent made a thoughtful noise. ‘I suppose I can excuse you for a while if it’s to get me a gift.’

‘Good.’

‘So it _is_ a gift for me?’

Damen groaned. ‘Shut up.’

***

After they’d reached Rome, Damen and Laurent split their separate ways.

Laurent was sure he was right that Damen was getting him a gift, and he found himself wanting to return the favour. Even if Damen _wasn’t_ getting him a gift, Laurent still wanted to get him something to mark the occasion. He didn’t quite know what he was after, either, assuming he’d know when he saw it.

He was browsing the stalls, thinking maybe he’d get Damen a new dagger, something simple and elegant, something to protect him when Laurent wasn’t around. He thought Damen might laugh at that, believing himself invincible to a degree.

Laurent picked one up at a table outside a blacksmith’s, slipping it from its sheath. The dagger was nice, with a pretty decorative pattern that wound around the handle, but maybe – maybe Laurent was going about this wrong. He put it back on the table with a small, slightly apologetic smile to the blacksmith, and continued past.

He was about to give up on his idea of a gift, when he saw one last table with an aging man behind it. Laurent approached, browsing his wares, when he saw it. Right in the middle of the table, a wrist cuff. The gold was thick, with a simple pattern worked into it.

‘Nice, isn’t it?’ the man said, as Laurent picked it up. ‘It was one of a matching pair.’

‘Where’s the other?’

‘Sold just before,’ the man shrugged. ‘That might be too heavy for you.’

Laurent looked up and narrowed his eyes. ‘Thank you, but it’s not for me.’

‘Who for, then?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

The man raised his hands in apology. ‘Of course, I meant no disrespect.’

Laurent looked back to the cuff. It was perfect – exactly what he wanted, without having any plan of what to get. ‘I’ll take it.’

***

Damen was undressing when Laurent arrived back at the house, preparing to go to the small baths just down the hall. He smiled when he saw who was pushing open the door to their bedroom, continuing to unwind his clothing. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘How was your trip back?’

‘Fine,’ Laurent shrugged. ‘I got you something.’

‘Oh, did you?’ Damen said, coming half-dressed across the room. ‘Can I have it?’

‘Did you get me something?’ Laurent asked, holding the cuff behind his back.

‘I did.’ Damen went over to a table with a small wrapped parcel on it. He brought it back and held it out. ‘Swap?’

Laurent smiled and took the parcel at the same time as placing the cuff in Damen’s empty hand. There was a moment of recognition in Damen’s eyes as he slipped it on his wrist, waiting for Laurent to get to his gift. It felt very similar to the way Damen’s cuff had. He unfolded the fabric around the item, and was presented with a slimmer cuff, the same gold, with the same design etched into the surface.

‘I think we bought the pair,’ Damen said, amused. ‘That man asked me if it was a gift for my wife.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I told him it was none of his business.’

Laurent laughed. ‘So did I.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘Well, I bought the matching one,’ Laurent raised an eyebrow.

‘And?’

Laurent slipped the cuff onto his wrist with a smile. ‘I love it.’

‘Good,’ Damen kissed Laurent’s hair. ‘Would you like to join me in the baths?’

‘I would,’ Laurent said. ‘Help me take this off.’

Damen nodded, surprising Laurent by not getting distracted once, removing him from his toga in a timely manner, until he was just there in his shoes and the cuff. Damen hummed appreciatively. ‘Maybe I should bathe alone.’

‘And why would you do that?’ Laurent asked, affronted.

‘Because otherwise I’m going to do things to you and I’m not going to stop.’

‘Seven hours, huh?’

‘Now is sadly not the time,’ Damen sighed. ‘But we can bathe, if you stay on _your_ side and don’t wander.’

‘And where would I wander to?’ Laurent stepped closer to Damen, running his fingertips down his chest. ‘Would I distract you from the water?’

‘You would most definitely distract me from the water,’ Damen confirmed, sighing as Laurent slipped his hand around to Damen’s back and skimmed his hand down to the top of his thigh. ‘You’re distracting me now, and we’re not even in the baths.’

‘How about this,’ Laurent leaned up, placing his spare hand on Damen’s jaw and holding it lightly as he pressed a kiss to the other side. ‘I’ll give you five minutes to bathe uninterrupted.’

Damen let out a shuddery breath. ‘That seems fair.’

‘To the baths, then.’

Damen stepped away from Laurent to quickly remove his shoes, then held out a hand as he waited for Laurent to do the same. ‘To the baths.’

The hall was deserted as they made their way down to the baths. It was a short journey, just down and to the left, and the water had clearly been prepared for Damen’s use. There was only one towel on a bench by a window to the gardens, and Laurent raised an eyebrow at it. Damen just shrugged, slipping into the water and claiming one side.

‘You promised,’ he said. ‘Five minutes.’

‘I never _promised_ ,’ Laurent rolled his eyes, but kept to the other side. He washed quickly, then spent the rest of the time watching Damen, how the water rolled down his body, and how he shone in the sun, looking every bit a god.

Damen had been steadfastly ignoring Laurent with his back to him – maybe he didn’t trust himself – and turned when he was finished. ‘We have some time before everyone arrives for the feast.’

Laurent hummed and made his way through the water to Damen, linking his arms behind his neck and smiling innocently at him. ‘How should we use our time?’

Damen let out a deep sigh, his hands drifting down Laurent’s back. ‘I have a thought.’

‘Oh?’

Damen leaned in to kiss him, distracting him with his mouth, as he trailed a hand down to Laurent’s ass, slipping a finger into the cleft and sliding it further down.

‘Damen,’ Laurent said, breaking away and leaning his head against Damen’s chest, even as it pained him to do so. ‘No.’

‘No?’

‘Tonight.’

‘Tonight?’ Damen whined. ‘You’re going to make me wait?’

‘It’s not very long.’

‘I thought you wanted to –’

‘And I do,’ Laurent interrupted. ‘Very much, but neither of us have particularly good self-control, so I have to put my foot down or we’re going to be in _here_ for seven hours.’

‘That’s fine with me,’ Damen said eagerly. ‘Who needs a feast, right?’

Laurent laughed and kissed Damen’s shoulder. ‘I really would like some food today.’

‘I can have some brought here.’

‘I’d also really like you to fuck me on a proper bed at some point.’

Damen paused what he’d been doing with his hand and hummed thoughtfully. ‘You’ve got me there.’

Laurent was spared having to reply by a knock on the door to the baths.

‘Yes?’ Damen said.

‘Sir, the – Auguste is here?’

‘Oh, ew,’ Laurent muttered.

‘Who is he here for?’

‘Assuming his brother is in there as well, both of you,’ the servant said.

‘Great,’ Laurent sighed, twisting out of Damen’s arms and heading out of the bath. ‘If we’re about to immediately face my brother, I want that towel.’

***

Auguste eyed their wrists when they arrived to meet him in the gardens, not bothering to stand from his seat as they approached. ‘How’s married life?’ he asked, skipping over greetings.

‘It’s great, thank you,’ Damen said, taking a seat. ‘You’re early, the feast doesn’t start for a few hours yet.’

‘Ah,’ Auguste grimaced. ‘I’m not here as a friend.’

‘Oh?’ Damen frowned, studying Auguste’s face for a few moments. ‘Oh,’ he said again, softer.

‘What?’ Laurent asked. ‘What is it?’

‘The senate is sending us somewhere.’

Auguste shook his head. ‘The senate is sending _you_ somewhere. Laurent is to remain for a month or more, to be dispatched to you at a later date.’

‘Wait, what?’ Laurent looked between his brother and Damen. ‘They’re splitting us up?’

‘It’s not personal,’ Auguste said gently. ‘You’re needed here for a while, and Damen is needed in the north. When your business is complete in Rome, you’re free to join him for the remainder of the campaign.’

Damen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘When?’

‘Two weeks.’

Damen was quiet as he watched Laurent for a few moments. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’ Laurent repeated. ‘What do you mean “okay”? You’re going to let this happen?’

‘Yes,’ Damen said simply. ‘A few weeks apart –’

‘Around two months,’ Auguste corrected.

‘ _Six weeks apart_ ,’ Damen ground out, ‘is better than years. All you need to do is deal with whatever the senate wants from you, then we’re free to be together. We’ll be fine.’

‘Damen, I –’

‘Laurent,’ Damen interrupted gently, taking his hands. ‘Please. It’ll fly by, and you won’t even miss me.’

‘I will.’

‘I know,’ Damen kissed Laurent’s knuckles. ‘But we’ll be fine.’

Laurent consciously thought over what he wanted to say. _What if we’re not? What if I’m not? What if you die or I get delayed, or if it’s different when I get back to you?_ But there was no point in arguing – if the senate wanted something from you, you gave it. For Laurent and Damen, it was six weeks apart, and Laurent knew no matter how much he tried to fight it, nothing would change. He’d just end up tired and unhappier than he already was. ‘Okay,’ he muttered. ‘Six weeks.’

***

The feast had gone nicely, with things wrapping up by the time Damen and Laurent retired for the night. The thought of Auguste’s news lingered at the back of Laurent’s mind, but he wasn’t letting it ruin his mood, or his and Damen’s wedding feast. _Wedding feast_. For their marriage.

Laurent looked across to him as they walked, hand in hand down the halls. He knew there was a smile on his face, probably one a little looser and happier than usual, but that was just how he felt around Damen.

‘What?’ Damen asked, not turning his head as they rounded a corner. ‘I can feel you watching me.’

‘I’m just…’ Laurent trailed off, twirling in front of Damen and dragging him against the wall. ‘I’m happy.’

‘Oh?’ Damen said, pressing Laurent against the cool marble of the wall. ‘Are you?’

‘Mhmm,’ Laurent linked his hands behind Damen’s neck, going to his toes to kiss him and pressing his tongue to the seam of Damen’s lips for the fraction of a second it took for him to be allowed in.

Damen hummed, breaking off to look down at Laurent, his eyes dark. ‘In the hallway, Laurent?’

‘Anywhere.’

‘Now there’s a thought,’ Damen murmured, sliding his hands down Laurent’s sides, down to his thighs to lift him, holding him steady against the wall.

Laurent laughed into Damen’s neck, wrapping his legs around his hips as much as possible, given the swathes of fabric from his toga. He huffed and let go of Damen to quickly hike the fabric up past his knees, giving him a much better grip. ‘I wouldn’t say no,’ he mumbled, tilting his head back with a sigh, as Damen kissed down his neck.

‘I don’t know if I should have my ass out in a hall like that.’

‘I think your ass is great. The people should see it.’

‘Sure, why don’t we just go back to the party, and I’ll fuck you on the table.’

Laurent’s cock twitched between his legs, and Damen must’ve either felt it or noticed some other change in Laurent, because he drew back, eyebrows raised. ‘Really?’

‘Shut up,’ Laurent groaned.

‘Oh no,’ Damen said, snaking one hand between them and into Laurent’s toga, while easily keeping him up with the other. ‘Does that interest you?’

‘Fuck,’ Laurent gasped, as Damen took him firmly in hand.

‘Does it interest you?’ Damen repeated lowly. ‘Answer me.’

‘Yes,’ Laurent whispered. He wasn’t sure if it was an admission or a response to what Damen was doing with his fingers right now. Maybe both.

‘You like the idea of me,’ Damen kissed his neck, ‘fucking you open on a table,’ another kiss, ‘in front of people?’

Laurent moaned quietly, twisting his hands into Damen’s hair.

Damen hummed, keeping up his steady strokes. ‘You like the idea of me claiming you before all those people,’ he continued, ‘or maybe if I just lay back and let you do all the work, so they could all watch you fuck yourself on my cock, hmm?’

‘You can’t make me come in the middle of a hallway, Damen,’ Laurent said, even as he bucked his hips a little into Damen’s hand and squeezed his legs around him.

‘Is that a challenge or you saying you don’t want to?’

‘Fuck, I don’t know.’

Damen laughed and bit into Laurent’s shoulder. ‘A challenge, then.’

‘I hate you.’

‘You don’t, or you wouldn’t have married me.’

Laurent smiled. ‘That’s true.’

‘Do you want me to keep going, or do you actually want to move from the hall?’

‘You decided it was a challenge.’

Damen kissed his throat, resuming the pace after his brief pause. ‘Would you like it if someone walked in on us right now? If someone caught us here – me with my hand on your cock, and you making that noise? Would it make you come, knowing they were watching me touch you like this?’

Laurent took a shuddery breath. He was too tired to try and play it off now, and let himself respond on instinct. That instinct, apparently, was to talk back. ‘Maybe I’d want to make a show of it,’ he whispered into Damen’s ear. ‘Maybe I’d get louder, or maybe I’d make you fuck me properly, and have them watch you come inside me.’

‘Oh, you siren,’ Damen muttered, before he was quiet a moment, dropping his head to Laurent’s shoulder. ‘That’s cheating.’

‘Maybe I’d stay still, spread open so they could watch your seed drip from me.’

‘Fuck this,’ Damen muttered, pulling his hand off Laurent and starting off down the hall, pushing open the door to their room and dropping Laurent on the bed, before he went back to close it. He turned at the door and looked down to Laurent, his toga pulled up, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. ‘Take off your clothes.’

Laurent grinned and pushed himself up to stand and strip quickly, yanking his sandals off to discard them at the foot of the bed. He ran his eyes slowly over Damen’s body, down his muscles to his strong legs, and what lay between them. He was beautiful, and he was all Laurent’s. He walked towards Damen, touching the tip of a finger to his chest, crossed with shiny scars, and using that point of pressure to get him back against the door.

‘Don’t move,’ Laurent said, and slowly, pointedly, went to his knees.

He took his time, running his hands over Damen’s thighs, around to squeeze his ass, then back to hold him steady. He placed a gentle kiss in the dip of his hip bone, then glanced up for a moment, before he took Damen in his mouth.

Damen groaned, his hands turning to fists at his sides in his fight not to move. He tried to say something as Laurent pulled back to the head, flicking his tongue against the slit and sinking back down.

Damen was… big. Laurent hadn’t done this to him yet, and part of him thought maybe he’d need to work up to taking him the whole way in his mouth, into his throat, but the rest of him was fiercely denying being a quitter. He swallowed around him, and forged ahead slowly, until he was almost to the base.

‘Fuck, Laurent –’ Damen bit his lower lip as Laurent hummed. ‘I need to –’

Laurent pulled back a little, focusing his efforts on the more manageable end, until Damen came with a groan. He swallowed it all, before he let Damen fall from his mouth and stood up, delicately swiping a thumb over the corners of his mouth. ‘Do I need to wait long for you to be ready?’ he asked lightly.

Damen laughed shakily, relaxing his hands and letting his head fall against the door. ‘Give me a few minutes.’

‘Minutes?’ Laurent repeated, rolling his eyes. ‘If I must.’

‘Go on the bed,’ Damen said, nodding vaguely in the direction of it. ‘I’ll be there in a moment.’

Laurent was about to taunt him again when he was interrupted by some very loud, rather muffled singing outside their door. ‘What is that?’

Damen shrugged weakly. ‘Probably Nik.’

‘Nikandros is serenading us?’

‘Something about… customs,’ Damen waved a hand dismissively and let out a deep sigh. ‘Okay, I’m coming.’

‘Again? Without me?’

‘You’re horrible,’ Damen said, climbing onto the bed and watching Laurent walk around the room. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Looking for oil,’ Laurent opened a chest and sifted through the contents. ‘I might as well get started while you’re recovering like an old man.’

‘Don’t be mean, no one’s ever taken me quite… like that.’

Laurent stopped and turned around, intrigued. ‘Really?’

‘Really, really.’

Laurent made a pleased noise. ‘Oil?’

‘On that table. Blue bottle.’

Laurent found the bottle he was after, popping open the top to check, before he came back to the bed and poured some onto his fingers. He arranged himself beside Damen and wasted no time in preparing himself, pushing in one finger and another soon after. ‘How are you coming along?’ he asked, adding a third as he let out a small moan. ‘Am I going to have to do this all by myself?’

‘I wouldn’t be a very good husband if I let you do that, would I?’ Damen rolled closer to Laurent, plastering himself along his back to reach the oil and slick himself up.

‘No,’ Laurent agreed, letting Damen remove his hand and line himself up. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Well, we can’t have that, can we?’ Damen pressed his lips to Laurent’s shoulder and wrapped an arm over Laurent’s stomach as he pushed in.

The blunt pressure and the burn of the stretch had Laurent breathless, until Damen was completely in, and he let himself fully relax for what felt like the first time all day.

‘You good?’

‘I’m good,’ Laurent nodded, folding his leg back and over Damen’s hip, opening himself a little more. ‘Move.’

Damen said nothing, just started to slowly pump his hips, winding an arm under Laurent’s thigh to keep it there, and using his new position to take hold of his cock, still as hard as it had been in the hallway.

It felt glorious, having Damen inside him like this. His movements were almost lazy from having a little too much wine, but they were deep, and Laurent felt so good. The overall mood was lessened somewhat by Nik’s drunken singing outside the door, but with Damen like this, it was as close to perfect as Laurent could wish for.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Damen murmured. ‘I can’t believe my luck.’

Laurent smiled, reaching behind him as he turned his head to pull Damen to a kiss. ‘Not luck,’ he whispered. ‘Fate.’


	11. Epilogue Part One: The Letters

_Damianos, my lion,_

_My heart aches for you. One day apart and I feel as if my world is crumbling.  
I curse the powers that be for separating us so cruelly, and I pray  
to your gods and mine, that they keep you safe from harm until  
I hold you once more in my arms. _

_– L._

***

_Laurent, my sun,_

_My love, the stars are weak in their light, and the moon shines not as bright  
without you at my side. I eagerly await your arrival, and  
the possibility I might sleep once more. My dreams are dark,  
full of monsters and fear, and I wish only to have you by my side,  
that we might fight them, together._

_– D._

***

_Damianos, my light,_

_Three weeks have passed, and I feel as though I may never leave this place.  
My father insists I stay longer, but I am bored, and would prefer  
even the stench of war to the stench of sweat from men who  
think they know it. You are my every thought, my every heartbeat,  
my every want and need on this mortal plane._

_With boundless love, L._

***

_Laurent, my joy,_

_The nights are cold without you beside me, and I am counting down the days  
until we are together. This is harder than I thought (I know you will  
read too far into that) and I regret ever agreeing to it.  
You were right – we should have stayed together. From this day until  
my last, I never want to be parted from you._

_All my love, D._

***

_Damianos, my love,_

_I miss you so much I feel as if I can barely breathe. I wish there was a salve  
a physician could give to make this pain go away, but I know the only  
remedy is to once again be held in your arms. Half my soul and  
all my heart is missing, and I pray you are taking care of them._

_I love you more than all the things in life, and I count down to when  
I will see you again. Memories of your laughter, your eyes, and your hands  
are all that drive me as I leave Rome to join you._

_Soon, my husband, we will be together._

_All my love, and more after,_

_Laurent._

***

_Laurent, my darling,_

_The sun rises, and I think of you. The light of afternoon comes through my tent,  
and I think of you in my bed, your hair golden against the pillows.  
I think of you in my arms, and they ache to find you missing, as  
is my heart, my soul, and my breath._

_You are due to arrive tomorrow, so I will hand this letter to you directly,_  
but I want you to know how much I missed you, how hard I love you  
to the point of pain and hot tears on my cheeks.

_I love you, and will love you long after the gods have taken us both._

_Tomorrow, my love. Today._

_I love you,_

_Damen._

***

Six weeks had felt like a lifetime without Laurent. Having only two weeks together before Damen had needed to leave had been nothing short of divine torture, as they enjoyed each other’s company all while counting down to the day they’d be separated.

Laurent had been very quiet the day Damen left, holding his hand as tightly as possible, like he could physically stop Damen from marching north. He hadn’t been persuaded to let go, and Damen hadn’t wanted him to, half-tempted to tell the senate to get fucked so he could stay behind with Laurent, then the pair of them could meet up with the legion later.

But that wasn’t an option, and Damen had to pretend to be okay with it.

When Auguste arrived, telling Damen he was late and asking Laurent to let him leave – _that_ was when he’d dropped his hand. Auguste held Laurent back as Damen climbed onto his horse after a last, lingering kiss, and though it broke Damen’s heart to see Laurent crumble like that into his brother’s arms, he had to be strong for the both of them.

It didn’t stop his sappy love letters, and he hoped they provided as much comfort to Laurent as Laurent’s did to him. Damen had never thought himself the best at writing or putting his feelings to words, but Laurent had always had a gift for crafting elegant lines. They tore at Damen’s heartstrings, and it was all he could do to wipe his tears before they dripped onto the letters and destroyed them.

Damen woke up on the day Laurent was due to arrive, and suddenly, it felt like nothing had ever happened, like the six weeks had flown by and now he was to get his reward.

‘Good morning,’ Damen said, holding open the door to his tent for Nik. ‘Today’s the day.’

Nik handed him one of the two plates of food in his hands. ‘I know, Laurent’s coming today.’

‘Coming today, tonight, and hopefully all of tomorrow if I can manage it,’ Damen grinned. ‘Is there any word of him yet?’

‘A scout just arrived. They saw him camped last night, so he’ll probably arrive sometime this afternoon.’

Damen sighed and picked up one of his oatcakes to pick a piece off. ‘That’s –’

‘Don’t you dare,’ Nik interrupted, ‘say _that’s too long_ , because I’ve had to put up with your moaning for six weeks, and another few hours of it may actually kill me.’

Damen pointedly put the cake in his mouth, making a show of how quiet he was being.

‘Much better, thank you,’ Nik said, plucking a grape and rolling it between his fingers. ‘You should wash.’

‘To pray?’

‘No, because your husband is arriving today and would probably appreciate it.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘My friend, we both know he’s going to get here and try to climb inside you. The least you could do is stop smelling like a pig pen.’

Damen looked affronted, flicking a piece of cake at Nik. ‘I don’t smell like a pig pen.’

‘You don’t smell great, either.’

‘I’m on campaign –’

‘So is everyone else. You’ve been wallowing for six weeks.’

‘I’ve washed in those six weeks!’

‘Well, wash again!’ Nik threw a grape at him in retaliation. ‘Please! And air out this tent.’

‘Yes, _Mother_ ,’ Damen grumbled.

Nik studied him for a moment. ‘Even so,’ he said softly. ‘I’m sure Laurent won’t care.’

‘He might –’

‘Sir,’ Lazar skidded into the tent. ‘He’s here.’

Damen stood, bumping into the table and shuddering everything on it. ‘Laurent? Already?’

‘Yes,’ Lazar confirmed. ‘Cresting the hill on the camp’s south border now.’

Damen looked to Nik, who shrugged. ‘Guess it’s time to find out what he thinks about your bathing habits.’

Damen grinned. ‘I have to go,’ he said, stupidly wondering why he hadn’t immediately left, as he sprinted through the camp, barely dressed in a tunic and sandals.

He almost slid in the mud when he arrived at the edge of the camp, coming to a brief halt as he scanned the horizon for Laurent. Then – _there_. Halfway between the camp and the hills, a fair distance yet, Damen saw him.

The sun was barely rising, but the light from the east made Laurent’s armour glow, his white horse almost a torch in the still dark of the morning.

Damen’s heart jumped to his throat, and he took off again, running across the field towards him.

Laurent must’ve seen Damen coming, and slipped off his horse to keep going to him on foot, handing his reins to his escort before he started running, too.

The distance between them was getting smaller, but it felt like they’d never been further apart, until Laurent slammed into Damen and buried his face in his neck, as Damen swept him into a hug, spinning them both.

‘Laurent,’ Damen wrapped his arms around him tightly, not even caring about the hard armour that was pushing into his skin uncomfortably. ‘I missed you so much.’

‘Damen,’ Laurent breathed, pulling him into a kiss like he’d die without it. ‘I…’

Damen looked down to him in concern. ‘What is it?’

Laurent wrinkled his nose, even as he smiled a little. ‘You stink.’

Damen couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I’ve been told,’ he grinned. ‘I was expecting _I love you_ or something.’

‘I didn’t think it was as important,’ Laurent reach up to kiss him again. ‘But I do. Love you.’

‘I love you too.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

Damen rolled his eyes and pulled him back into his arms, with a mumbled, ‘You don’t smell that great either, you know.’

Laurent laughed. ‘Shut up.’


	12. Epilogue Part Two: The Rebels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this is it! slight apologies (but not really) for the meta in this. have i written a very long essay on this? yes. did i have a great time being filled with rage? also yes. ~~did it get a good grade? surprisingly received an A lmao~~
> 
> and yes, i will continue to rage about it if anyone wants to open that particular can of beans lmao

> “I know Damianos had known the bodies of women and men both before he met Laurent, but I do not know whether he ever truly knew love from either. He knew mine, with less familiarity than others, and I knew his – every inch once taken – but none of us ever compared. With Laurent, he had unbridled passion and the purest love known to man or the gods, a true match in life. I have watched them spar, and they are almost of one mind, in their steps and their swings. I have watched them fight, side by side on the battlefield, and never have I seen anything as dangerous as the way they fight to protect one another. They amass bodies at their feet, an awful storm coming to deliver men unto their death, and they will do anything to keep those men away from each other.
> 
> Their love for each other is the true story of the life of Damianos. Laurent never abandoned him, not through any of his triumphs or failures, through his abandonment of the Gods of Rome and return to those of Athens. Through his injuries, through his legitimising of children and through his own ascension through the senate, Laurent stayed by Damen’s side, uncaring of opinion or else, the tries of others to tear them both down. I have never seen anything like their dedication to one another, and I doubt anyone before or after me ever will again.
> 
> They were of perfect behaviour in Rome, never showing outward affection for one another, except in their own house, except in the matching bracelets they wore – wedding gifts to one another, each one half of a set picked separately and reunited on their wedding night. On campaign, everyone knew, and no one cared, but if they did, they would not have lasted long in a camp where the legatus and his husband, the senator’s son and a senator’s brother, were supported by all.
> 
> One tent shared, one heart beating, and one mind to outwit and outmanoeuvre the enemy. On his defeat of Claudius, Damianos led into battle the cavalry, and Laurent – not yet his husband – led the heavy infantrymen. Their tactics were well planned, and I shall discuss how exactly this defeat was achieved, in no small part thanks to Laurent, who killed his own uncle after Damianos was injured defending him…”
> 
> – Excerpt: Nikandros, _Travels of an Athenian_ (3.147-178)

***

‘Hey, is this seat taken?’

Laurent looked up to a tall, tanned, very cute guy with curly hair standing beside him. He looked around the rest of the lecture hall – no other seats were taken yet, and Laurent had kind of been hoping to be ignored by everyone taking this course. It was why he’d claimed a pair of seats on the far left of the hall, planting himself at the wall. ‘No,’ he said slowly, ‘and neither are any of the other seats.’

‘Oh,’ the guy looked around. ‘Well, I can – do you not want a seat buddy? I can move somewhere else, I suppose.’

Laurent contained his sigh at the guy’s puppy eyes – _lost_ puppy eyes. He cleared his things from the other desk. ‘It’s fine,’ he said. Maybe it would be better to have a friend in this class, just in case he missed a lecture and needed the notes.

‘Cool, thanks,’ he grinned, setting a bag down in the aisle with a _thunk_. ‘I’m Damen.’

‘Laurent,’ Laurent said, opening a fresh document on his laptop, titling and dating the top.

‘Wait, Laurent?’ Damen said. ‘No way! I’m Damen.’

Laurent stopped and looked at him strangely. ‘You’ve mentioned.’

‘We’re – _dude_ – we’re starting this course off with Damianos and Laurent. Did you do the readings for today yet?’

‘I – yes,’ Laurent said, catching on. He was talking about the legatus and the man generally thought to be his husband from like, two thousand years ago. Laurent had thought this jock-looking guy was in the wrong room.

Damen laughed. ‘I get that a lot.’

 _Oh._ Laurent blushed. He’d said that out loud. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, turning back to his laptop, even though he had nothing to add into his document yet. People were only just beginning to stream in now, though, so maybe he could switch seats without anyone noticing and thinking him weird for it.

‘What’s your major?’ Damen continued, opening up his own laptop, the top covered with stickers of statues and phrases in Greek.

‘Classics,’ Laurent offered. ‘Minors in history and creative writing.’

‘Oh, neat!’ Damen said, sounding genuinely interested. ‘I’m doing a double major in classics and archaeology. I think my parents are a bit torn, because on one hand, they’re Greek and glad I’m taking an interest in our history, but on the other, I think they were hoping I’d go into the family business and study finance.’

‘Ew,’ Laurent said out of reflex. ‘My brother did finance. He’s making money, but at what cost?’

‘Any chance of anyone ever liking him?’ Damen suggested.

‘No one likes him anyway.’

Damen grinned, and looked ready to reply, when the professor walked into the room and loudly announced they were beginning class.

Laurent started to steadfastly ignored Damen, typing his notes quickly as the professor flicked through a powerpoint with barely a line or two of information on each slide. He had intended to get through this course without drawing attention to himself, but he quickly realised that would probably be harder than he realised, in no small part thanks to Damen beside him.

‘Now,’ the professor said, flicking to another slide, this one with two images of marble busts – one with a strong jaw and short, curly hair, the other with slightly more delicate features and longer, shoulder length hair. ‘These are the only surviving portraits of Damianos and Laurent, probably replicas of earlier originals. From what we think we know about them, they lived sometime in the middle of the second century B.C.E., but these are from well into the first century, probably around three hundred years later.’

Laurent made a note. Yes, good stuff, great information.

‘What this calls into question, however, is their true existence. The readings you should have done by today featured an excerpt from _Travels of an Athenian_ by the contemporary, Nikandros, a general from the region of Attica that lived in the second century B.C.E, and who claims to supposedly have met, known, and fought alongside them,’ the professor continued. ‘We know a general named Claudius was defeated at Lake Trasimene, but there are no surviving records of who actually led this battle, except mention of a man named Makedon, who fought with Greek soldiers that Nikandros claims to have led. This, we suspect, is due to the nature of Romans fighting against Romans, long before it became more of a… norm.’

Brilliant, except… Laurent latched on to the _supposedly met_. He wanted to ask why this wasn’t accepted, but he knew the answer was probably to do with the unreliable nature of a single ancient source that mentioned Damianos and Laurent in such detail, even though there were _other_ sources that agreed with Nikandros about their existence – or maybe it was the obvious nature of their relationship that had pushed them into doubt.

‘Whether or not they were real, the passage from Nikandros suggests they were very close friends –’

‘Wait, no,’ Damen interrupted loudly.

Everyone, the professor and Laurent included, turned to stare at him like he was mad. ‘Yes?’ the professor asked. ‘Do you have something burning to add?’

‘Yeah, I do, actually,’ Damen said, pulling a wad of papers from his bag and flicking through to a highlighted and annotated section. ‘Right here –’ he stabbed his finger into the papers, ‘Nikandros makes blatant reference to Laurent as the husband of Damianos, of them giving wedding gifts to one another, and the “purest love” they had for each other. I think that speaks to a little more than _very close friends_ , don’t you?’

The professor raised an unimpressed eyebrow. ‘I’m aware of what it says. Damianos also supposedly had many children, which negates –’

‘But _does it_?’ Damen asked. ‘Maybe it was a form of surrogacy. They shared a house, they shared a tent on campaign, they showed absolute dedication to one another – Damianos risked his life at the battle at Lake Trasimene to protect Laurent, and you’re still adding this all up to friendship? Like Patroclus and Achilles were just friends, right?’

‘Patroclus and Achilles were never made mention of being married.’

‘No, but Patroclus did want to have his ashes mixed with those of Achilles after he died as well so they might never be parted,’ Damen shot back. ‘There’s an entire aristeia in the _Iliad_ after Achilles finds out Patroclus is dead, and it could be _his_ fault, which seems rational behaviour for the death of a friend, as opposed to that of a lover. Would you say they didn’t exist, purely so you don’t have to recognise that two men in a relationship were such badass warrior husbands?’

The professor folded his arms over his chest as the rest of the students looked back to him. It was like watching a tennis match, and Laurent almost didn’t care he was sitting right beside the one person who was drawing so much attention to himself right now, not when Damen was basically saying what Laurent didn’t have the guts to. ‘Are you suggesting I’m homophobic?’

‘Are you?’

‘No, but –’

‘All due respect, you can’t say _no_ then tack a _but_ onto the end,’ Damen shrugged. ‘As a man, do you have an issue with two men being in a loving, committed relationship?’

‘I don’t have any issues with it,’ the professor said calmly. ‘I don’t care whether or not they were gay, but you should really watch your tongue, young man.’

Damen scoffed, apparently having a death wish and taking it as a challenge. ‘We’re lucky enough to live in a society where acceptability of non-heteronormativity is becoming increasingly prevalent, so invalidating the lives of two men who achieved great things, _simply_ because one of them _took it up the ass_ is taking a backward step, sir. Ancient texts, including _Travels of an Athenian,_ were intentionally mistranslated by Victorian scholars to fit into their worldview, a time when homophobia was rampant in England, including executions and exiles. The equating of passive sexual participation with femininity and submissiveness, and therefore being unmanly, is an antiquated notion, and you shouldn’t be suggesting it’s still a valid viewpoint, especially when new translations of ancient texts – _including_ the one you assigned – are proving that ancient writers really didn’t give a shit about who people banged in their spare time. We don’t invalidate the life of Caesar, simply because he was effeminate and probably had a relationship with Nicomedes of Bithynia.’

The professor let out a deep sigh. ‘Anything else you’d like to add?’

‘Please shut up,’ Laurent muttered.

Damen either didn’t hear or didn’t care, humming thoughtfully for a moment. ‘I’d like to add that you can’t apply dichotomising terms like _gay_ or _straight_ to ancient figures, because sexuality was and continues to be fluid, and the intentional misrepresentation of non-heteronormative sexualities, such as those of Laurent and Damianos – who was probably bisexual in modern terms, by the way – is insulting and damaging to both their memory and the impact it can have on current generations, as well as our understanding of how they fit into the ancient world.’

‘Are you done?’

‘I could discuss the relationship of Alexander the Great and Hephaestion, if you want.’

‘Not really. Thank you for the offer,’ the professor turned back to the rest of the lecture hall. ‘Would anyone else like to add to Mr…’

‘Vasileos,’ Damen smiled serenely. ‘Damianos Vasileos.’

‘Any additions to the argument of Mr Vasileos?’

Laurent took a deep breath, then raised his hand, hating himself for it. ‘I would like to ask if you’ve read the letters between Damianos and Laurent,’ he said.

The professor turned to Laurent, and _god,_ he hated having that stare on him. ‘The letters?’ he repeated, sounding highly unimpressed. ‘What letters?’

‘They were validated just a few months ago,’ Laurent said, flicking to the tab on his laptop. Totally no one’s business but his own if he’d had them open to remind himself love was actually a thing. ‘There are six, from the period Nikandros mentions in book four of _Travels of an Athenian_ when Damianos was on campaign, leaving Laurent behind in Rome. They repeatedly refer to each other with pet names, always ending with a loving sentiment.’

‘I don’t believe in the existence of these letters,’ the professor said. ‘They were invalidated years ago.’

‘No, sir,’ Laurent said politely. ‘These are letters that were discovered no more than two years ago, preserved by the heat of the desert they were in. It was a huge thing, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it.’ Laurent shut his eyes for a moment. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ ‘The, uh, last two,’ he continued awkwardly, ‘are the sappiest. Laurent signs his with “All my love, and more after” and his full name. Damianos writes in his “I love you, and will love you long after the gods have taken us both”, uh, “I love you”, and his nickname, Damen, by which he’s referenced by Nikandros in _Travels of an Athenian_ , book three, line… one-six-two, I believe.’

The professor clenched his jaw and for the briefest moment, Laurent thought he saw his life flash before his eyes as he waited for his reply. ‘If you could send me that research, I would be glad to read it and update my lectures and syllabus.’

Laurent let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. ‘I’ll email it to you now.’

‘Thank you also, Mr…’

Laurent coughed. ‘Laurent de Vere.’

‘Well, well,’ the professor said slyly. ‘Laurent and Damianos, hmm?’ The class giggled, and the professor returned to his lecture, ignoring them, but carefully avoiding the topic, in case they decided to badger him again.

Laurent reached for his water bottle on the edge of his desk and took a few long swallows. He felt like he was about to die. Still.

‘So you’re a rebel, too, huh?’ Damen murmured.

‘I am absolutely not a rebel. That was so out of order,’ Laurent whispered. ‘But I mean, you’re right. _I’m_ right.’

‘You think I’m right?’

‘I don’t think we should still be out here saying ancient figures that were clearly non-heteronormative were straight, just to validate their achievements. Taking an entire dick up your ass is about as manly as it gets and the _direct_ opposite of weak,’ Laurent snapped his mouth shut. ‘Sorry. Sensitive topic.’

‘Oh, I get you,’ Damen laughed quietly. ‘If I was only ever remembered as straight because obviously all warriors are straight _even_ if there was record that I married a dude, I’d want someone sticking up for me a few thousand years in the future, you know? I have a hard enough time being taken seriously while I’m alive. Dating a girl means I’m straight, dating a guy means I’m gay, and everyone seems to hate me, no matter what I do.’

‘I don’t think I hate you,’ Laurent said softly. ‘If that helps.’

Damen turned to him and watched him for a moment. ‘Really?’

‘I hate you a little for drawing attention to me like that, but yeah, really,’ Laurent smiled. ‘Laurent and Damianos need to stick together, right?’

Damen grinned, bumping their knees together under the table as they turned back to the lecture, and for the first time since Laurent had started university, he was glad someone had chosen to sit beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with this chapter done, that means it's all up! thank you to everyone for reading and leaving kudos/comments etc, they truly make my day 💖💖💖
> 
> edit: hello! a few people asked to read the essay i mentioned that basically inspired damen's uh, rant, so i made a rundown on tumblr (it's not a rundown, it's 1500 words, which is how long the essay was meant to be, before i got carried away and made it 1900 with my tutor's blessing lmao) so anyway! you can read - more or less - the whole shebang [here](https://damiaanos.tumblr.com/post/190013471913/i-feel-like-i-should-preface-this-by-saying-i)!


	13. Glossary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _notes about the glossary_
> 
> \- chapter notes contain mild spoilers, but nothing too major if you want to read everything in here at once  
> \- this is alphabetised  
> \- i haven't edited this since i edited it a month ago lmao  
> \- if there's anything anyone wants me to add/edit, drop a comment and i'll get right on it!  
> \- i think that's it lol

**ABBREVIATIONS**

**Lit.:** Literally/literal.

 **Masc.:** Masculine.

 **Pl.:** Plural.

 **Trans.:** Translation.

**CHAPTER NOTES (IN ORDER)**

****

**_PART TWO_ **

**Mea maxima culpa:** Lit. “my biggest fault”.

 **BONUS – the chicken ritual:** Okay I don’t really need to add this but in case ur confusion after the limited explanation in the actual fic, the chicken ritual was Important. Basically, you had three outcomes. 1 – Chickens ate a LOT: very good sign! 2 – Chickens ate, not particularly ravenous, not ignoring food either: good sign. 3 – Chickens didn’t eat SHIT: bad! This could, of course, be influenced to give a particular outcome. Give a chicken no food and it’ll eat, right? (Also – my sources just said “cake” so I've gone for a more accurate honeycake than like, red velvet.)

****

**_PART THREE_ **

**Psyche:** Hello, a tiny note! Greek word here – ψυχή (difference in pronunciation) lit. trans. “soul”.

****

**_PART SIX_ **

**Camp followers/follower’s camp:** If it’s not obvious – it’s like, the soldiers’ families (if they had come with them) and like various other people important to the running of a camp. (Including like, y’know. Women *wink*)

 **One simple word:** “I am coming” translates in Latin to “venio” = one word. I thought I was being funny okay.

****

**_PART SEVEN_ **

**_“Though he dared not speak it”_** : In case yall aren’t up to date with ur Greek myth – generally if you compare yourself to a god or goddess, bad things happen to you. Arachne, for example, declared herself a better weaver than Athena. She was promptly turned into a spider.

****

**_PART EIGHT_ **

**The battle:** Hey just yeeting this here in case I forget some other kind of AN but if you wanna read about the battle that inspired this, then you can hit up the Battle of Lake Trasimene (just, y’know, Damen/Laurent is Hannibal, and Claudius/the Regent is Rome).

**GLOSSARY PROPER**

**Aegyptus:** Yes, this is Egypt.

 **Attica:** The region of Greece that holds Athens.

 **Augur:** Someone who read omens delivered by birds. (This is NOT the dude who reads entrails! that's a haruspex! totally different game!)

 **Augury:** Birb watching :)

 **Auspices:** Omens – will of the gods delivered through signs.

 **Capitoline Hill:** A hill in Rome lmao.

 **Chthonic worship:** RIGHT. Chthonic worship is worship to underworld deities (Hades, Persephone) and the dead and/or heroes (like Hercules/Herakles). Chthonic worship is different to “regular” worship in that there’s not really an altar like you’re probably picturing in your mind rn. The altar for sacrifices was usually a pit (to represent the underworld) or an altar like a pile of stones (I think – if I don’t edit this glossary before posting, someone remind me to check). Another thing about chthonic worship was that sacrifices of the furred/feathered variety were usually darker toned. A good example of this in the _Odyssey_ is when Odysseus needs to talk with the dead, blind seer, Tiresias. He digs a pit and sacrifices the blood of black lambs (sheep? whatever) into the pit.

 **Circus Flaminius:** Uh a stadium ig.

 **Circus Maximus:** BIG stadium in Ancient Rome, hence the “maximus”. had seating for 150k people, making it the largest event venue to ever exist (how neat!).

 **Daggers:** Okay. They were called _pugio_. Look. I’m a classics major, dudes. I did an entire paper on Greek and Roman warfare over summer last year.

 **Decimation:** A fun thing the Roman army did for fear tactics basically, in which soldiers drew lots and one in ten would be randomly killed through fun things like being stoned to death by his fellow soldiers! ( _dec_ \- is ten!) If you’ve seen _Spartacus_ , this is the thing that happened to the friend of Marcus Crassus’ son. (If you haven’t seen _Spartacus_ , then uh, spoilers ig, sorry.)

 **Dis:** Full name Dīs Pater. Roman god of the underworld. Usually associated with fertility of the earth (god of minerals and whatnot) and was eventually merged into the god of Pluto, Roman equivalent to Hades.

 **Expiatory sacrifice:** If something went wrong in a sacrifice, or if an offering was shown to be rejected by the gods (spotted liver etc) then the entire thing would be redone with fresh sacrificial victims and _extra_ sacrifice to apologise for fucking up. Basically – an apology sacrifice.

 **Greaves:** The leg ones. Leg gauntlets. Shin guards. In this house we love greaves.

 **Haruspex:** The dude who pulls out livers and inspects them for omens/auspices. Different from augury. Haruspicy was the messy, bloody one.

 **Hellas:** Greece.

 **Hellene:** A Greek person.

 **Hellenisation:** Okay, this is basically described in there but for more detail – Hellenisation was the process of Rome pretty much adopting Greek culture. It was, essentially, a race for who could be more Greek. Romans wore Greek garments, spoke Greek, learned Greek culture and had their sons tutored in it all as well. They threw symposiums, and this was all taught to them by what were basically Greek ~wise men~. This is also part of the reason why in classical art, the phrase “Roman copy of the Greek original” is so prevalent, bc Romans copied Greek art. (Which is also why in some cases we only know some statues existed bc they were copied by Rome, in which case there’s some variation of the phrase “likely a Roman copy of a Greek original”.)

 **Himation:** a Greek garment.

 **Hoplites:** Greek soldiers, my dudes. That’s basically it.

 **Imperator:** The triumphing general. IIRC, if you were proclaimed imperator by your soldiers, you could ask for a triumph?

 **Jupiter:** Hello, just in case – Roman equivalent to Zeus.

 **Jupiter Optimus Maximus:** Jupiter, but multiply the awesome basically.

 **Kaloi Theoi:** Basically, “good gods” – this is a plural form. used as an opening like “dear god”. ( _NB:_ this and other religious terms, including “ _khaire_ ” etc is going purely off my own knowledge of modern Hellenic polytheist ritual!)

 **Kalos Theos:** lit. “good god” (masc.). used as an opening to a single, male god, similar to “dear god” in Christian religion.

 **Khaire:** ~~Yall, deadass can’t remember what this means (if I forget to edit this glossary, someone either hmu in the comments or remind me to look it up)~~ Editing me here! _Khaire_ is like, hello, goodbye, a salutation, but comes from the etymological root _χαίρω_ meaning “rejoice” (which is what I know it as) but basically used as the equivalent of “amen” in Christian religion.

 **Khairete:** Plural address of _khaire._

 **Legatus:** Commander of a legion.

 **Ludi:** Games! This usually included athletic and sporting competitions, chariot racing, and theatre. Later, it included blood/gladiatorial sports. ( ~~which is another topic i can and absolutely WILL go off about if literally anyone asks me.~~ Editing me here! I have no willpower. [Here’s a link if you want to read my mini rant about gladiatorial contest and bloodsports!](https://damiaanos.tumblr.com/post/189219358113/please-tell-more-about-gladiatorial-contests-and))

 **Miasma:** Okey dokey. This is basically like, pollution of the soul (I guess). Things like blood, the aftermath of sex, murder etc, was all considered pollution, so before worship, you had to be cleansed of it as to not offend the gods. An example of this in ancient sources is Orestes having the blood of a piglet spilt on him to cleanse of the miasma of killing his mother, Clytaemnestra. you can also cleanse of miasma with the use of khernips as well (basically a mix of fresh water and saltwater w a lit match dropped in) which is still used by some modern Hellenic polytheists (usually reconstructionists but also by revivalists – it’s kind of a personal choice, ig) but this can also be done by showering or a thorough wash of the hands and face. (This is the same kinda thing as lustration or lustral waters, if ur more familiar w Roman religion.)

 **Minium** : Poisonous, also known as red lead, used for cosmetic purposes to paint the faces of triumphators. Literally no idea if it’s possible for it to drip bc the only thing I could find consistency-wise was to do with binding it to walls, and like, Damen’s Big, but he’s not a wholeass house, ya know?

 **Minos, Aeacus and Rhadamanthys:** Three demigod sons of Zeus who became the council of the underworld to judge souls of the dead.

 **Mola salsa:** A mixture of flour and salt used to sanctify (purify? whatever) sacrificial victims, like bulls.

 **Omens:** Auspices – will of the gods delivered through signs.

 **Palatine Hill:** Another hill in Rome.

 **Phalanx:** I’m absolutely not about to go ham discussing the phalanx. But just know, I could. The phalanx is the formation where shields overlap and interlock (basically) to create a shield wall. Okay I lied, I’m going to go a little ham about this. There were two different kinds of formation for this. one: the tight formation, where shields were overlapped tightly and allowed a soldier to only occupy 45cm (sorry imperial people, we stan the metric system but I think this is like a foot and a half) of space behind his shield, and was good for uh, getting rammed ig, but also really good for attacking. It's just hard to maintain, is all. Two: the loose formation, where only the edges of shields touched, allowing a soldier to occupy the full 90cm (three feet – maybe?) of his shield. Where ancient sources make mention of charges, this is the formation you can expect the phalanx to have taken, as it was considerably easier to maintain at speed.

 **Pilum:** Pl. _pila_. A spear around 7ft long. Roman soldiers (at one point) carried two as part of their gear, but these were eventually replaced by shorter ones (I think – don’t hold me to that). Fun fact, they also featured a buttspike! (actual word!) Which is exactly what it sounds like! A bigass spike on the other end! Because of this, there needed to be enough room between first and second rows of soldiers during battle that the front row wouldn’t stab the row behind with the buttspike. Usually a couple of steps, I think, which is why getting that upper body force was so important – you had like, fuck all room to get the heft you needed to throw it.

 **Pomerium:** Sacred border that ran through/around Rome. Often purified w rituals (lustrations).

 **Porta triumphalis:** Lit. something like “gate of triumph”. Basically, special gate.

 **Romulus:** Mythical founder of Rome (along w his brother, Remus, who were twin sons of Mars born to a mortal, Rhea Silvia, and were uhhh suckled (I hate that word) by a she-wolf).

 **Serapis:** One of the foreign cults recognised in Roman religion. Commonly considered to be the bridge between Roman and Egyptian religion, as his induction into Roman religion was equally contributed to by a Roman (Timotheus) and an Egyptian (Manetho). Serapis was a Greco-Roman-Egyptian hybrid that was basically the recognition of Pluto in Egyptian religion. (There’s a whole thing about a dream and a statue here, hmu in the comments if you want it lmao.)

 **Suovetaurilia:** Also known as _suouetaurilia;_ the sacrifice of a pig, ram, and a bull ( _sus, ouis, taurus_ ) to Mars, used to purify borders of cities, military camps, farms etc.

 **Sword:** Okay I know I've been calling it a sword all along, but they were actually called a gladius (pl. _gladiī_ ), which was shorter than a Greek sword and if anyone has literally ANY interest in it, pls come bug me on Tumblr or Twitter and I WILL give you a complete rundown of the three types of damage caused by swords in the aegean bronze age bc YES I Know Things about it and YES I will tell literally anyone who cares. ~~unless by the time I edit this glossary and publish it, I’ve already lost my last bit of willpower and talked about it, in which case, editing me will provide a link/links here for anyone interested!!~~ I did. [Here’s the post](https://damiaanos.tumblr.com/post/189220455988/damiaanos-i-cant-believe-i-still-havent-gone).

 **Toga viralis:** The toga boys received upon entering manhood (usually around age 13) to signify their new status as A Man.

 **Triclinium:** A dining room lol.

 **Triumph:** ~~It should become obvious but maybe editing me will chuck in a YouTube video that explains it bc right now me is tired lol~~ [Here’s a video about triumphs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-VjCLR5L-c).

 **Triumphator:** I mean. The triumphing general.

 **Via Sacra:** Lit. “sacred road”.


End file.
